Rabbit Hole
by Becks Rylynn
Summary: October, 2010: Dean Winchester comes out of retirement to take on a case that could have drastic future consequences. Lila Bray 'verse. Threeshot. Happy Halloween!
1. Curiouser and curiouser

_AN: Surprise! I know what you're thinking. What is she doing starting another story? Well, I can assure you all that this story is all finished and it won't be taking away from any of my other stories. I just thought that since ''slower, slower'' was obviously not going to be totally completed by Halloween, that I'd write a backup Halloween story. One that could actually be posted on Halloween. So I sat down and wrote this really quickly. And when I say really quickly, I mean it. Like...I was not aware I could write that fast. It startled me._

_By the way, the reason I haven't updated ''slower, slower'' in so long is because I hit a bit of a roadblock. Have no fear, the story isn't abandoned or anything, I have just discovered it's not so easy writing from Piper's POV, plus some real life issues kind of forced me to take a break from writing for a little bit. But yeah, I've moved past the hump and things are looking up. I'm back to work on ''ss'' and hope to get a new chapter up sometime in the near future. But in the meantime, I present you with this story!_

_So I hope you all enjoy!_

_Chapter titles taken from the novel ''Alice In Wonderland'' by Lewis Carroll._

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><p><strong>Title: <strong>_Rabbit Hole  
><em>**Summary: **October, 2010: Dean Winchester comes out of retirement to take on a case that could have drastic future consequences. Lila Bray 'verse. Threeshot.  
><strong>Pairing(s): <strong>Dean/Ruby. Surprise Guest/Surprise Guest.  
><strong>Characters:<strong> Dean, Ruby, little bit of Bobby, Lila Bray, and one other surprise guest.  
><strong>Genre: <strong>Family/Suspense  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T  
><strong>Timeline:<strong> Takes place in October of 2010 - during the year in betweens seasons five and six.  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> Spoilers for all of the SPN seasons, but mostly for seasons six and seven.  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Dude, there is some pretty heavy gore in part one. I was so excited to finally be writing some horror/gore-ishness that I might have gotten a little bit carried away. There is also some mentions of character death (non-canon and canon) and some brief implications of rape in part two.  
><strong>Dedication: <strong>Once again, I'm going to dedicate this to all of my readers as a Halloween trick or treat present. Happy Halloween, ghosts and ghouls!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything.

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><p><strong>Rabbit Hole<strong>

_Written by Becks Rylynn_

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><p><em>Part One<em>

_''Curiouser and curiouser''_

.

.

.

''Dean, come on, it's Halloween. Don't do this now.''

The pleading tone in Ruby's voice does nothing to deter Dean as he crams a glinting blade into the duffel bag on the bed. He's got his mouth set in a determined line and a loaded pistol in the waistband of his jeans. There is no way he's turning back now. It's not like it's a big deal, anyway. It's just one tiny measly hunt. It's not like he's going to shift right back into old patterns, living in motels and spending his days in the Impala. That life is over for him. He is all too aware of that. This is a onetime deal, for old time's sake and because he's been feeling much too restless lately. It is one hunt and he makes sure to tell her that.

''I know it's Halloween, Ruby, and I promise I'll be back in time to see Lila Bray in her Alice in Wonderland costume, all right? But I need to - ''

''You don't _need_ to do this, Dean,'' she protests grimly. ''You _want _to. There's a difference.''

Dean sighs heavily, hefting the bag onto his shoulder with one hand and snatching up the newspaper off the bed with the other. ''Bobby asked me to check this out real quick,'' he lies easily, brushing past her to get to the door.

''Liar,'' she hisses, spinning on her heel to chase after him. ''Bobby didn't ask you to do anything,'' she sniffs. ''He told me _you_ were the one who asked him to look into the missing girls. Dean!'' When he doesn't stop, continuing to walk his steady path down the hall, she speeds up and dances in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. ''Dean, what are you doing?'' She asks desperately. ''We're supposed to be retired.''

''Ruby, it's not that easy.''

''It is that easy! It has to be that easy!'' Her eyes flash and she jabs a bony finger into his chest. ''This isn't what we want for her! This isn't what _Sam_ wanted for her. Dean, he told us... He made us promise - ''

He flinches away from her touch when she goes to graze her fingertips across his cheek, green eyes growing cold under her gaze. ''Sam can't say shit about what I do anymore,'' he fires back at her, emotionlessly. ''He's dead.''

She reels back as if she's been punched, folding herself right back into that safe little cocoon she has made for herself over the past few months. The knife in his chest that he can't get out, won't get out, digs a little deeper. Shame washes over him in waves and he sighs once more. ''Listen,'' he lowers his voice, cupping her cheek gently. She inhales sharply, lips pursing, but she does not pull away. Progress. He does all he can possibly do to stop thinking about Sam. ''It's one case. I don't even know if it's supernatural yet. It could...'' He shrugs and tries to offer her a smile, but it feels forced and it doesn't last long. ''It could be nothing. I'm just going to do a little recon. Just this once.''

She doesn't look the least bit convinced; he can't particularly blame her. ''You know what happens when people in the movies say they're just going to do a little recon?'' She asks. ''They _die_, Dean. Horribly. There's _lots _of blood.''

His lips twitch. ''Ruby, _seriously_, you have got to spend less time on Netflix.''

She closes her eyes and leans into his touch for about half a second, before she sucks in a breath and jerks away from him, eyes narrowing at him. ''Just...'' She rakes one hand through her hair, which is not as blond as it used to be, darkened to a dirty blond, a change she made after Sam... ''Be careful,'' she orders, meeting his eyes. She splays her hands out across his chest. ''And be back before sundown, okay?''

He nods and drops a quick kiss to the side of her head. ''I won't be long,'' he promises, and hopes it will be a promise he can keep.

.

.

.

_1:20 pm, Mikail's Pub_

The three women who have gone missing from Sioux Falls range in age from twenty two to thirty one. The first one vanished back in July, an unfortunate mystery that people felt bad about but eventually wrote off as an isolated incident. Her name was Judy Richardson, she was going to school up in New York, studying to be a pediatrician, and she was home for summer vacation, visiting her parents and younger sister. She was a conventionally pretty young girl, twenty two, skinny and blonde with a sweet smile and a gleam in her eyes. The second girl to go missing was Zoe Combs, a twenty seven year old photographer with an upcoming wedding, all dark, sultry eyes and pouty lips, who disappeared without a trace in mid September, reigniting the fear felt after Judy went missing. And then there was Natasha Eames, a thirty one year old real estate agent who had just moved back to her hometown of Sioux Falls to be closer to her ailing grandfather. She had a type of classic beauty that rivaled Bette Davis and she was a single mother. Her little boy was only a few years older than Bray. She was stolen away two days ago.

These are all sad facts. (Dean has done his research. It's just like old times.) But the thing that unnerves him the most is what he sees in their eyes. Their faces are splattered all over the local newspaper and on missing posters all around town and Dean can't help but notice the glint in their eyes. These girls were tough, fierce, _strong._ He knows this. He knows because he's seen that glint before, he sees it every day inside Ruby's eyes.

He's willing to bet that when these women were taken, they fought like hell.

Whoever - whatever - took these women away? It's going down _bloody._

.

.

.

The one common denominator in the case is the fact that all three women were last seen at Mikail's Pub. Judy was out with her old high school friends, Zoe was at her bachelorette party, and Natasha was at her work Halloween party.

Dean can believe in a lot of things, but he can't believe in coincidences.

The sports bar is buzzing with activity when he gets there. The regular customers are chowing down on burgers on their lunch breaks and watching sports highlights from what looks like the 80s on the big screen televisions and employees are rushing to put up last minute decorations for the Halloween party later tonight. It's bustling inside, but the manager, a heavyset bald man in his late forties, is more than willing to share any information he has about the missing women, tut-tutting sympathetically as he alternates between barking orders at his little worker bees and spouting off unbelievably unhelpful information about the girls. (Judy seemed like your stereotypical college girl who binged on tequila, Zoe drank dirty martinis and laughed a lot, and Natasha stuck to water and struck up a friendship with the bartender.)

It's an unfortunate lead that leads nowhere.

Dean stops off to talk to the bartender Natasha befriended and then declares Mikail's a bust.

_Maybe it isn't supernatural, _he thinks as he leans against his truck in the cool fall air, looking down at the faces smiling up at him from the newspaper. _Maybe it's just some random wackjob_. A good, incredibly probable explanation. Not every evil is supernatural, you know. Except that his spidey senses are tingling and it is _never_ just a random wackjob. He is seconds away from having to drag himself to the library to do some actual research (the part Sam always used to have covered) when he looks straight ahead, catches sight of a old, weathered looking warehouse, and the alarms scream in his head.

Ah, yes.

Of course.

It's always a fugly looking warehouse, isn't it?

.

.

.

Mikail's Pub is located in a fairly industrial part of down, right on the outskirts of the downtown strip. There are lots of warehouses. This one has bad vibes. He feels it the second he lays eyes on the damn place.

Dean keeps one hand on his gun as he moves silently through the worn down building. When he steps inside, he knows he's in the right (or wrong, depending on how you look at it) place. The place reeks of death, the pungent smell of blood and decay permeating everything it touches. He tries not to make any noise as he creeps through, but when he begins to climb a precarious, ancient looking set of stairs, the wood groans loudly under his weight. He winces and stops, looking over his shoulder. The disconcerting silence gets to him and he draws his gun just in case, keeping it lowered as he quickly climbs the rest of the stairs.

As soon as he gets to the top of the stairs, he freezes and whirls around, raising his gun. He could've sworn he heard footsteps. This feels just like it used to, adrenaline rushes and all. He keeps going, stepping over broken pieces of wood and cement and dead rats. The stale air is sinking into his clothes and his hair and the smell is getting worse and worse as he goes deeper, but he doesn't stop. The smell eventually leads him to a heavy door at the end of a dark tunnel like hallway.

It's possible Ruby was right. Couldn't get more horror movie than this. He can definitely feel Halloween in the air. The door handle clangs when he pushes down on it and he stops for a beat, waiting for something to jump out at him. Nothing does. He opens the door.

The stench that assaults him when the door opens is so overwhelming that it catches him off guard momentarily and he has to choke down a gag, burying his face in the crook of his arm. ''Ugh,'' he groans, eyes watering from the strong smell. ''Son of a bitch.'' He blinks to clear his vision and when he reluctantly raises his eyes, he is bombarded by the horrific sight before him. Definitely, _definitely_ the right place.

Three bloody corpses are lying in a row before him, virtually unrecognizable due to all of the gore. Chunks of their skin have been torn off and their hair is slick and matted with blood and - he steps a little closer - are those teeth marks? Has something been _eating_ them? Oh yeah. Yeah, definitely supernatural. Nausea rolls in his stomach. The blood is everywhere. On the floors, on the walls, handprints smeared all over the goddamn place. The bodies are so gruesome that he can't even tell for sure if these are, in fact, the women he's looking for, though some part of him knows they are. Aside from the fact that they are covered in blood and have been savagely ripped apart, two of them are in the later stages of decomposition, which does not make identification any easier.

He tries to breathe through his mouth, but that does no good because the smell is so bad he swears he can taste it.

Okay.

So, he's pretty sure he's going to need to go outside and vomit after this and he knows the image is going to make it harder to sleep at night than it already is, but...he needs proof. He inches closer, shouldering his gun. The sparkling diamond engagement ring on one decaying corpse tells him it's Zoe Combs, a silver cross necklace on the oldest corpse is proof that it's Judy Richardson, and the bloodstained picture of a smiling little boy that he uncurls from the tightly clenched fist of the freshest body no doubt belongs to Natasha Eames.

He heaves another sigh, gnawing on his bottom lip briefly. ''All right, girls,'' he keeps his voice soft and quiet, like he's trying not to wake them. ''I'm gonna get you back to your families as soon as I can. I promise.'' Carefully, he gives Natasha back her picture of her son and stands. Somewhat hesitantly, he leaves the girls behind him, body now on red alert. Once he's back in the hallway, he takes in a gulp of the slightly less gag inducing air and resumes his search for clues. As clues go, the dead bodies were pretty big clues. In his mind, he's already going through a list of pissed off monsters who could do that much damage to a human body.

Vampires? Werewolves? Rakshasa? A rugaru? The ghost of a carnivorous douchenozzle maybe?

A door on the right hand side is open a crack - of course it is, because he's in a horror movie right now - and Dean can see light streaming into what looks like a vast and mostly empty room through the grimy windows. He pushes open the door with his foot, gun cocked and ready to fire, and he steps inside. The only way to describe the room would be to say it is some kind of living quarter, although it is massively pathetic. He supposes monsters don't care all that much about decor. There are a few dirty magazines strewn on the floor, styrofoam coffee cups litter the ground, there is exactly one rickety chair that looks like it's about to break at any second, a flashlight lies next to a piddly radio, and an oddly lumpy and messy bed is right in the middle of the room. Well, somebody didn't make their bed this morning.

Dean frowns, tilts his head to the side, and stares at the bed. There's something really off about that bed. A hunch forms in his gut. With his eyes fixated on the bed, he easily catches it when what looks like a maggot slithers out from underneath the dirty pillow. He inhales. Letting out a barely audible grunt of frustration, he strides across the room and in one swift movement, he tears the blankets and sheets away to expose the strange looking mattress. He replaces his gun with a switchblade, cutting away at the mattress, instantly recoiling in disgust when dead insects begin to stream out, falling at his feet.

Well, okay then. Rakshasa then. (You know, the last time he dealt with a rakshasa was right after Dad died. And ain't that just the kicker. The fuck? Do these things like to fuck with him when his head's all messed up or something?) He stands straight, letting out a breath.

''Hey!''

Startled, Dean whips around, smoothly slipping the knife back into his pocket.

An extremely nervous looking security guard is standing in front of him, brandishing a maglite at him threateningly. ''What are you doing here?'' He demands harshly, beads of nervous sweat appearing on his beet red forehead. ''You're not supposed to be here.''

Dean fumbles for a logical answer. Hunting monsters does not seem like it would be the best thing to say right now. Unfortunately for him, he is without false pretenses this time. No puppy dog eyed little brother, no suave blonde ready and willing to take one for the team by flirting their way out, and no fake badges to save him. He's fucked. ''Uh, I was just...'' He tries to lay on the thickest charm possible with what he hopes is an innocent looking smile, but it doesn't appear to be doing anything. ''Well, see, I was...I was on my lunch break and...'' He stops suddenly when he sees another live maggot crawling its way out of the security guard's pocket. ''Aw, hell.''

And his body is wired, _programmed_, to react, so he does. Dean lunges forwards with what he hopes is a well timed right hook to the other man's jaw and when the security guard, who Dean suspects is not just a security guard, staggers back, Dean takes advantage of the momentary distraction the best he can. He locks his hand around the man's wrist and twists, grabbing a hold of the maglite and wrestling it free. He swings the flashlight like it's a crowbar, bashing it into the security guard's head. The security guard stumbles back again, head snapping to the side. When he turns his head back to Dean, there's a snarl on his ugly mug and his face briefly contorts unnaturally.

Dean lets a smirk twist itself onto his lips. ''Would you look at that,'' he says, ''I can see you so much better now.''

When he swings the maglite once more, his luck runs out. This time, the rakshasa seems to be expecting it, hands curling around the base of the flashlight before it can make brutal contact with his head. A nasty growl erupts from low in the monster's throat and his cold, clammy hand grasps a fistful of Dean's shirt. The next thing he knows, he's flying. He goes crashing into the chair and lands hard on his back on the concrete floor. Man, is that ever gonna hurt tomorrow. Before he even has a chance to save himself, which by the way, he is totally capable of, someone new strolls into the room, oozing much too much confidence for someone who has just stumbled across a rakshasa.

Dean looks up and for half a second, he legitimately believes it's Ruby. There are flashes of blond and the new girl is pulling out a knife, no trace of surprise of anxiety anywhere on her young face. The rakshasa, looking none too happy about having been discovered, catches the knife, which Dean suspects is probably made of brass, and twists it out of her hand. No matter. She retaliates by punching him right in the nose and then stomps his foot, bringing her knee up into his groin. Demon or not, he howls and pales drastically, sinking to his knees. Without ever saying a word, she brings her knee up once more, this time catching him under the chin. He topples to the ground and she delivers quite a nasty kick to his stomach, so brutal it's as if the dude has hurt her personally.

Dean's already pretty wary. He has seen this method of combat before. It's the same kind of hand to hand that Ruby uses, dirty and straight to the point. The last time some pretty blonde walked into a Winchester's life and slaughtered everyone, he wound up with a kid and a demon-ey girlfriend.

The rakshasa, sensing that Blondie is not as girl next door as her innocent fluttery eyelashes suggests, decides his best course of action would be to make a hasty retreat. In an instant, the average looking man morphs into the shape of an enormous dog and lunges for the girl. She lets out a surprised gasp, followed by a shriek as it's paws make contact with her chest, tackling her to the ground.

Despite the hesitance, Dean huffs and rushes to save the damsel. The minute he grabs onto her hands, hauling her out from under the dog and practically lifting her to her feet, shoving her roughly behind him, there is a spark. She feels familiar. Like he's held her hands before. _Saved_ her before.

The rakshasa cuts his losses, galloping right towards the window. Halfway there, it shimmers and shifts, turning invisible like these fuckers tend to do. The invisible dog crashes through the window, and as much as Dean hates to admit it, that right there was kind of cool looking. Still gonna gank it, though. New Girl rips free of Dean's grip on her, heeled boots click-clacking as she races to the window. The anxious look on her face, clenched teeth and fiery eyes, reminds him of something. _Someone._

Finally, she sighs and gives up. As soon as she turns around, she's got a gun pointed at her, and it's unnerving how calmly she reacts. ''You're not going to shoot me, D...'' She pauses, a small smirk crossing her lips. ''..._Dean_.'' But she raises her hands anyway, most likely in an attempt to placate him.

He sneers at her. ''And who are you?'' He asks roughly. ''Supergirl?''

Her lips tease into a pout that is, once again, _familiar. _Almost unbearably so. ''A friend.''

''Sorry, honey,'' he says, ''try again. I don't have friends.''

She snorts at him. How ladylike. ''Wonder why.''

''Clock's a-tickin' there, Supergirl.''

''Fine,'' she grinds out through her teeth. ''I'm...'' She stops, pausing momentarily to think carefully about her answer. ''I'm the girl that just saved your ass.'' There's an odd sort of gleam in her eyes when she says that, like she wants so badly to laugh. ''Good enough?''

''Are you forgetting that I saved yours too? Cujo would've - ''

''Cujo didn't want to kill me. He just wanted to run.''

His teeth grind together in frustration.

''Look,'' she drops her hands impatiently and takes a risky step towards him. ''I'm here to help you, I swear. I'm a hunter.''

He doesn't falter, keeping the gun aimed squarely at her chest. ''I don't trust hunters as far as I can throw them.''

She cocks her head to the side. ''Yeah, well... Good instincts.''

''What's a girl like you doing hunting anyway?'' He asks, gun still drawn as he begins to circle her.

She seems to take great offense to that, nose wrinkling while she moves with him. ''A girl like me?''

He stops and stares at her. Clearly this civilian lifestyle has softened him. With a barely there wince, hoping he won't regret this, he lowers the gun. He can't help it. This girl's a teenager. Doesn't even look old enough to drink yet. And he can't help but see his daughter in her. (Actually, there is quite a striking resemblance...) ''How old are you? Sixteen? Seventeen?''

''Eighteen,'' she mutters out defensively. ''Almost nineteen.''

''That's still too young,'' he points out sagely. ''Shouldn't you be in school?''

''Graduated already,'' she says triumphantly.

''College then?''

''I'm weighing my options.''

''This is an option for you?''

She shrugs carelessly. ''It's a legacy thing.''

He scoffs. ''Pretty shitty legacy from where I'm standing.''

''Yes, but you're damaged.'' She pauses, lips pressed together. ''You _seem_ damaged, I mean.''

''Yeah? Well, get out before you end up just like me. You're too young to waste your life like this.''

She laughs. When she laughs, her eyes twinkle. ''Spoken like a true father.''

He tenses. ''How do you know I'm a - How do you know my name?''

Her smile never slips, remaining in place as she glides even farther in his direction, keeping her hands where he can see them. ''Everybody knows about the Winchester family. You saved the world,'' she says it with a hint of honest to God pride in her voice, a serene smile still on her lips. It's starting to get kind of creepy. But then her smile drops abruptly and she locks eyes with him, suddenly looking very, very serious. ''I'm sorry about your brother.''

Purely on instinct, because of that gnawing, gaping hole in his chest, he cocks the gun once more and points it at her. ''I wouldn't,'' he warns.

She nods, lowering her head. For a moment, peering up at him with doe eyes through her eyelashes, she looks thoughtful, biting the inside of her cheek. She lifts her head and stares at him like he's under a microscope, no doubt trying to get under his skin. Goddamn it, where has he _seen _this girl before? ''Listen, Dean, I want to work with you on this case. You're going to need help. _Trust me._''

''I work alone.''

And there's that smile again. Fuck, where'd she get that smile? ''No, you don't.''

Maybe he knows her parents or something? He runs through a list of hunters he has met over the years, but none of them stick out. For reasons unbeknownst to himself, he tucks the gun away and folds his arms. For the life of him, he cannot read this little girl. For all he knows, she could be a demon. But... She's eighteen years old, she reminds him of his daughter, and fatherhood has softened. So he caves. Pinching the bridge of his nose and cursing every paternal bone in his body, he stops fighting it. _If it were Lila Bray_, he asks himself, and that's as far as he gets.

''Okay, kid, what's your name?''

She seems caught off guard by the question, mouth working soundlessly for a moment before she manages to squeak out a name. ''Um...Mary.''

Heh.

Of course that'd be the name.

''Well,'' he closes the distance between them and latches onto her arm. ''Come on then, Mary. We've got a monster to hunt.''

.

.

.

_2:55 pm, Dean and Ruby's House_

Last minute Halloween candy shopping sucks ass.

It's just another lesson learned in domestication for Ruby. Soccer moms have got some wickedly strong grips and some fucked up attitudes and when they want the last bag of candy corn, they are willing to pull hair to get it. She's learned that too. (That particular Real Housewife of Sioux Falls had no idea what she was getting into when she pulled Ruby's hair, FYI.) Next year, Ruby vows, she's just going to buy the candy in advance and hide it so that Dean can't eat all of it the same day she buys it. Maybe then she will avoid two giant un-fun hassles. The hassle of stealing candy from other frantic people and the hassle of staying up half the night rubbing the moron's back because of a monster stomachache from eating two bags of mini-chocolate bars. Dumbass. How is he not four hundred pounds?

Ruby enters the house with two bags full of candy corn and chocolatey goodness and her half asleep daughter on her hip. She just stole candy from Robyn Crowell, by far the bitchiest neighbor she has, whose annoying little son Alex, likes to pull Bray's hair. She is feeling particularly triumphant. The feeling quickly dissolves, however, when she waltzes into the kitchen and finds Dean playing Daddy to some kid who is not their kid.

He's sliding a mug across the table to some young blonde teenager and she's nibbling quietly on a sandwich. The thing that stands out the most is probably the way he's looking at her. He's looking at her like he looks at Bray when she's throwing a fit or the way he used to look at Sammy when he would get a headache, apprehensive, worried, and paternal all at the same time.

The girl looks up when Ruby enters and Ruby freezes, taken aback. The girl's eyes lock with hers and Ruby has to swallow, a little more startled than she'd like to admit. It's officially weird. Like ten seconds away from being creepy. She recovers as quickly as she can, sliding her gaze to Dean, who at least has the decency to look sheepish. ''Oh, really, Dean? Screw you. Come on, you're kidding me, right?''

''Ruby...'' Dean lets out a nervous sounding chuckle as he rushes to take the bags from her arms. ''Hey, hi,'' he presses quick, distracted kisses to the side of Ruby's mouth and Bray's forehead. ''Hello. Can I just...'' He looks over his shoulder at the girl, who shifts her wistful gaze back to her plate. ''...Talk to you for a minute? In the other room?''

.

.

.

Ruby leans against the doorway to Bray's room and watches Dean tuck their daughter into her pink princess bed that she really doesn't seem to like, spilling whatever she can on it and squealing out a, ''die, pink!'' whenever is possible. Perhaps they should not have given into that ''every little girl likes pink'' shtick the salesman laid on them. Distrustfully, Ruby looks down the hall, not so sure it's safe to leave Teeny Bopper downstairs alone. When she looks back at Dean, he's just turning around to face her.

She arches a single eyebrow.

He spares one last glance over his shoulder at the sleeping toddler and then guides Ruby out into the hallway, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

''Explanation,'' she orders. ''Now.''

''There's a rakshasa in town,'' he says, rushed. ''I went to that bar where all of the missing girls went before they disappeared and I found this warehouse - ''

''Of course you did.''

He grimaces. ''They're all dead, Ruby. ...And then I found a bed made out of dead insects and then I found the rakshasa fucker - or, I guess he found me. And then the girl - Mary - made her big action movie heroine entrance and...'' He lets out a breath, looking at her with those stupid broken down eyes of his that he knows will get to her. ''She's just a kid, Ruby. I can't let her go after this thing alone. She'll get herself killed.''

She rubs at her forehead. Damn him and all of his paternalness that has just been bubbling over ever since Bray was born. Guess this means no taking the tiniest Alice in Wonderland out trick or treating. She swallows a sigh. The perfect Halloween memories will have to wait until next year. ''Okay,'' she agrees at last. ''We'll help her. But that's all, you got me? Just this one case. If this causes you to fall back into old habits, you can go do it somewhere else. Understood?''

He bobs his head up and down.

''Also,'' she adds on seriously. ''We're not keeping little Bambi down there. We don't take in strays, remember?''

He beams at her and it has been such a long time since she's seen him smile like that, so she smiles too. ''Deal.'' He holds his hand up for one of those teamwork high fives that have apparently become his newest dorky thing and she rolls her eyes like it's a huge burden that he is such a nerd, but she smacks his hand anyway. If it makes him smile...

These days, she's willing to do a lot of stupid shit to make him smile.

.

.

.

The girl steps out onto the front stoop, shutting the door behind her. The cool fall breeze whispers through her hair and she tugs her thin leather jacket closer to her body. With a tired yawn, she collapses onto the front step and shoves her hand into the pockets of her jacket. The breeze continues to blow strands of hair into her face as she stares out at the neighborhood. It's strange really. How everything is so different and yet somehow the same.

She eyes the woman across the street who is slamming her car door shut and struggling up the driveway with a huge pumpkin in her hands. Same Mrs. Kendrick, albeit much younger. Because she can't help herself, she leans forwards a little to look at the house three houses down. While she is staring at the familiar house, a minivan swings into the driveway and a surprised gasp escapes her lips. She leans back, biting down on her lip nervously. A little peek couldn't hurt. She leans forwards again just in time to see a very familiar man lift a squirming dark haired toddler out of the minivan.

She can't help but laugh. How many girls get this kind of chance? The little boy is kicking and screaming and throwing what looks to be a tantrum of epic proportions. Yep. That's definitely -

''You're using your dead grandmother's name as your cover?''

She jerks in surprise, head snapping towards the familiar face walking up the pathway. Her surprise gives way to laughter. ''Dude,'' she giggles, pointing down the street. ''That's you.''

His lips thin in annoyance. ''I just spent the morning shadowing your mother at a supermarket. While she was having a tug-a-war with my mother over candy corn, little you ran off and I had to save your tiny little ass. Feel grateful.'' He shrugs. ''But then when I gave you back to your mother, you googly eyed me. I felt awkward.''

She cackles, rising to her feet and tugging at his leather jacket. ''Should've told little me _don't worry, in a few years you'll get to fuck this hot piece of ass all the livelong day. _I'm sure that - ''

''Lila.''

''Alex.''

He lets out a long suffering sigh and looks at her like he's valiantly trying to remember why he loves her so much.

She fixes him with her best 'don't hate me because I'm cute' look. ''Hey now, Mr. Grouchypants, why the long face?''

''Don't be cute.''

Her hands snake around his waist and she looks up at him with a wicked smirk. ''I'm sorry,'' she murmurs. ''Your request is invalid.'' She leans up to capture his lips in her own, hoping it will calm his obviously shot to hell nerves. Ever since they came back, Alex has been one giant party pooper, raining on every parade she tries to cook up. Everything has become incredibly methodical and precise since traveling back to 2010. She's guessing it not only has to do with their mission, but also his mother. In the future, his mother is dead, killed by a brain aneurysm in the middle of the night in a giant dose of karma. (And good riddance...) But here, in October of 2010, she is still very much alive and very much the same awful Robyn Crowell as she always was.

But hey, it's not as if she's without her own problems. Her uncle's off somewhere without a soul and she keeps thinking that if she warns someone, Uncle Bobby maybe... If she warns them of what's to come...maybe they'll be able to save Uncle Cas. And then, of course, there's the kicker. The main event. The reason they're back here pulling a Dad-and-Uncle-Sam-go-back-in-time-to-save-the-grandparents thing.

''Lila,'' he utters, stopping her when her lips are inches away from his. He looks down at her with exasperated dark eyes. ''This was not the plan.''

She pulls away from him instantly. You know, she had kinda been hoping he wouldn't mention that. ''I-I know.''

''You were supposed to get your father away from this hunt, not offer to help him with it.''

''I know,'' she repeats. She runs a hand through her hair, a nervous habit picked up from years of watching her mother do it in times of great stress. ''But I have a new plan,'' she finally says brightly. ''I'm going to go with Dad tonight and help him out. Two against one. Better odds than before, right?''

He gapes at her. ''Okay,'' he speaks slowly, putting his hands on her shoulders and locking eyes with her. ''I love you, but your plan is stupid.''

She glowers at him, a true Winchester scowl marring her face. ''Fuck you.''

He sighs at her. Again. ''Lila, you know what's going to happen if your father walks into that warehouse tonight.''

''I don't,'' she protests. ''Because I'll be there with him. That's changing history as it is.''

''Listen to me,'' he grabs her arms, pulling her to him. ''If he walks in there tonight, he will get into a fight with that rakshasa and he will die.'' She visibly flinches, swallowing hard. ''And then everything is over, Lila,'' he continues. ''It's over. Your uncle won't get his soul back, your mother will be murdered by Samuel Campbell, your brother won't even be born, neither will your cousins, and all of those people your father saves - including me - will die. And then you'll be stuck all alone in a rotting world ruled by fucking _Leviathans! _That is, if they don't eat you before you hit puberty. And all because some asshole rakshasa decided to stop in Sioux Falls for a bite to eat instead of going straight through to Nebraska where he was _supposed_ to be killed by Rufus Turner.''

Anger flares in her gut, a cold rage spilling through her. She tugs free of his grasp, shoving at his chest roughly, hard enough to send him staggering back a step. ''Well, no fucking shit, Sherlock! I know all of this crap, Alex! It is all I can think about. And yeah, it'd be so much easier to pawn this thing off on Rufus, but unfortunately, that's not an option anymore. Dad already knows it's here and he knows what it did to those women and he's not going to stop until it's dead.'' She stops to take in a few gulps of air, trying unsuccessfully to quell all of the feelings she does not have time for that are currently trying to claw their way up her esophagus. ''All I can do now is make sure Dad doesn't get a knife to the jugular, and I will, all right? I will. I'm not going to let him die, I'm not going to let Mom die, I'm not going to let you die, and I sure as hell am not going to let _anything _happen to my brother. You have seriously got to trust me on this, Alex. I know it's dangerous, but right now it's the only way I can save my dad.''

He clenches his jaw and stares at her with that precisely blank look on his face that is the one thing about him she's never been able to unravel. ''Lila,'' he breathes out at last, pointing a warning finger at her. ''If anything happens to you, so help me God...''

''Nothing's going to happen to me,'' she murmurs soothingly. She steps over to him and takes his face in her hands, offering him something in between a smile and a smirk. ''You have got to stop thinking I'm so breakable. Do you even realize who I am? Don't be so paranoid.''

''I'm not paranoid,'' he protests softly. ''I just love you. I'm your boyfriend, it's allowed.''

''And if you keep saying cheesy shit like that,'' she warns with a laugh. ''You're going to be my _ex_-boyfriend.'' But she stands on her tip toes to kiss his forehead anyway. Eh, it might've been cheesy, but it was probably one of the sweetest things he had ever said to her. He's not one for long heartfelt conversations.

He takes a step away from her and pulls out a folded piece of bright orange paper from his jacket pocket. He hands her the paper and his eyes, hard and dark and determined, tell her in no uncertain terms to watch her fucking back tonight because if she gets her reckless self killed, he'll be going full on darkside to get her back. She has no doubt. Eyeing him dubiously, she unfolds the piece of paper, skimming it quickly. It's a flyer for a Halloween party tonight at Mikail's Pub. ''You and your dad aren't the only ones going hunting tonight - ''

''I know,'' she nods, ''that's why your job is to intercept Uncle Sam and the Campbell Clan before Dad comes face to face with Uncle Angelus before he's supposed to.''

His lips twitch and he shakes his head. ''That's not what I meant. I was talking about the rakshasa. With all of the slutty nurses and sexy vampires that will inevitably be there, I'm sure Harry Potter and his invisibility cloak are going to be there lookin' for the tastiest playboy bunny wannabe.''

''Alex,'' she grins widely. ''You're a genius!''

She turns to leave, but before she even gets a step away, he threads his finger through the belt loop on her jeans and spins her back to him, lips crashing onto hers. She squeaks in surprise, but quickly melts, arms winding around his neck, flyer still clenched in between her fingers. He pulls away much too soon, earning himself a groan of displeasure from her. ''One thing,'' he whispers. ''Just do one thing for me.''

''What's that?''

''Don't do stupid shit.''

''Again,'' she smirks and lays her hands flat against his chest, beginning to push away from him. ''Your request is invalid.''

**end part one**

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><p><strong>AN: Come on, who doesn't want to see Lila Bray pull a Chris Halliwell?<strong>

**Info dump: Yes, Alex is the other surprise guest and the other pairing is Alex/Bray. Mikail is pronounced like Mi-Kale not like Michael. This is a threeshot story. Part two will be posted on either Saturday or Sunday and the final part will be posted on Halloween. I probably shouldn't have even posted this so soon, but I feel like I've been waiting to post it forever and I couldn't wait anymore.**


	2. We're all mad here

_AN: Hello all! Ready for a new chapter? Get ready for some Lila Bray POV because the majority of this chapter is told from her point of view. And wow, I love this girl so much. I need to write more teen!Bray. Speaking of, I'd really love some feedback for this chapter because like I said: it's mostly told from Bray's POV and I'd like to know if you're enjoying the characterization of her. Is this what you thought she'd be like as an adult? Or not?_

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

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><p><strong>Rabbit Hole<strong>

_Written by Becks Rylynn_

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><p><em>Part Two<em>

_''We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad.''_

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.

.

She is no Chris Halliwell, but she understands why one might think that.

In all honesty, she's just a girl who went to sleep one night, received a ghostly message from her distressed and very, very dead grandfather about history changing, and then got sent hurtling through the rabbit hole to fix things by someone upstairs, because history changing fucked up their plans and messed with fate and all of that bullshit. No biggie. She figures it's really just the plight of a Winchester, always having to go back in time to save your parents from Glenn Close psycho angels and cocky rakshasa bastards who pick terrible locations for last minute lodgings.

Lila Bray Winchester is just that. A Winchester. Doomed to some pretty darn bad luck every now and then, but no matter what, she continues to get right back up and keep on truckin'. It is simply the Winchester way. Never give up on family.

She pops back into the house, tucking the flyer for the Halloween party into her back pocket. She barely even manages to get two steps before Dad is popping up out of nowhere and she is practically running into his chest. No, wait. _Dean._ It's _Dean,_ she reminds herself. Not Dad. Not in this world. He's staring at her with a distrustful frown, head tilted down towards her. She suspects that getting him to trust her is going to be the real hurdle. His trust issues are, like, legendary. Her mom, especially when it comes to hunters, is even worse.

There is a reason why the number one preferred plan was to save the world without letting him see her. This is going to be extremely tricky.

''What are you doing?'' Dean asks, hands on his hips.

''Getting some fresh air,'' she lies easily.

He stares down at her flatly.

She bounces nervously. ''So,'' she says, looking around his shoulder. ''Was that your wife?''

The tension in his shoulders loosens somewhat and she can breathe easy. The attention is officially off of her. It figures referring to Mom as 2010 Dad's wife would distract him. This is long before Mom finally gives in and lets him put a ring on her finger. ''Close enough,'' he eventually says casually.

She screws her face up in confusion, even though she knows exactly what that means. ''What does that mean?''

Dean squirms uncomfortably. (Bray wants to laugh so badly right now.) ''It means...'' He stops to think about it, but almost instantly snaps out of it, shaking his head. ''That's none of your business, Mary. You don't know me well enough to - ''

''Hey,'' she holds her hands up. ''I'm not judging.''

He rolls his eyes and steps forwards to grab her arm for the second time today, leading her into the kitchen. ''Move it or lose it, Nancy Drew. We don't have time for this.''

Her mother - Ruby, damn it! _Ruby!_ - is in the midst of tearing open bags of Halloween candy and dumping them in a bowl when they enter the kitchen. She looks wary when she lifts her eyes, studying Bray like she's looking for faults, which is exactly what she is doing, if Bray knows her mother (and she totally does). There's almost something like curiosity coloring Ruby's eyes as she looks Bray up and down.

When Dean spots all of the candy spilled out on the counter, there's a brief look of drooling glory, which he then quickly shakes off. ''Ruby,'' he says, letting go of Bray's arm, gently pushing her forwards. ''Mary. Mary, Ruby. Everybody cool?''

In an effort to be cheerful, Bray puts on her sweetest smile and waves. ''Hi!''

Ruby steps back and folds her arms over her chest. She doesn't say a word. Unconsciously, more out of discomfort than anything else, Bray does the same. Dean looks in between them for several seconds, eyes Ruby's stance, from the crossed arms to the one leg jutted out in that unmistakably Ruby way, to the best badass look she can muster up at the moment, and then he swings his gaze to Bray (_''Mary''_) and her nearly identical stance. Finally, his eyes land on Bray, staring at her with ever so slightly widened eyes and a jaw that has slackened in surprise. Noticing the mirror like situation that is happening right now and that could potentially be a dead giveaway, Bray quickly unfolds and drops her arms, snapping out a quick and overly defensive, ''What?''

Dean doesn't answer right away; too busy staring at her like he's just seen her for the first time. But then he shakes the dumbfounded expression off his face and replaces it with his steely hunting face. ''Nothin'.''

Ruby resumes fiddling with the candy. ''Okay, so what's the plan?'' She looks up at Dean. ''You do have a plan, right, Rambo? I want to get this crap over with.''

''Oh.'' Bray plucks the flyer out of her pocket, hoping her excitedly helpful look is convincing enough for Ruby. ''Somebody gave me one of these earlier.'' Not technically a lie. She hands it over to Dean, halting him in his desperate attempts to stealthily sneak a piece of candy away from the bowl Ruby is watching like a hawk.

''A Halloween party,'' he deadpans. ''Okay. ...So?''

''So, it's at Mikail's Pub,'' Bray points out. ''The same place where all of the women disappeared from.''

''You really think he's gonna be stupid enough to go back there now that he knows we're after him?''

She has to resist the urge to smirk. ''I really, really do.''

''All right,'' Ruby pipes up. She crumples up an empty candy bag and turns around to toss it in the trash. ''So we crash the party and - '' she spins around and slaps Dean's hand away from the candy, then turns to slap Bray's hand away '' - grab him before he can get another girl.'' She sends them both a warning glare and heaves the bowl into her arms, locking it away in the pantry and then leaning back against the doors. ''That shouldn't be too - ''

''Or.''

Both Bray and Ruby sigh.

That would be his _I've got a brilliant idea, so don't fuck it up regardless of how kamikaze it may seem to you _voice. Usually his brilliant ideas are terrifying.

''We could give him exactly what he wants.''

''...Our heads on a platter?'' Bray suggests. ''I don't like that plan.''

''No.'' Dean drops the flyer onto the counter, an excited glint in his eyes. ''A woman. He likes women with attitude. Ones who'll fight back, call him names, let him know they're better than him before he eats them. Dude's twisted. So...let's give him the best bitchiest chick in the world.'' That one's really not that hard to decode. Slowly, Dean and Bray shift their attention to Ruby.

She looks back and forth between them and then it sinks in. ''Oh,'' she wrinkles her nose. ''You guys suck. I have to be _bait?_''

''Hot and bitchy bait,'' Dean corrects. ''You think you can pull that off there, sweetheart?''

''Go screw - ''

''I think she'll be fine,'' Bray interjects.

Ruby groans loudly, but eventually complies, stalking out of the room to ''go search for my best whore clothes.''

Dean smiles softly, snatching the flyer off the counter, looking like he's studying it for clues. ''I'll be right back,'' he murmurs distractedly. ''I'm gonna go call a friend.'' He tosses Bray a mini candy bar that he has apparently pulled out of thin air (his sticky fingers are out of control) and unwraps the other one for himself. ''Don't go anywhere,'' he throws her a look over his shoulder. _''Mary.''_

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_6:37 pm, Dean and Ruby's House_

Bobby Singer is immortal.

That is the conclusion Bray has come to since his arrival. It's the only explanation as to why early sixties Bobby looks exactly the same as early eighties Bobby. Sure, eighty four year old Bobby may have white hair and he may look a little more..._frail-ish _(not frail exactly, but frail-_ish_)than he does right now, but everything else is largely the same. Same gruff no-nonsense attitude, same baseball cap, same beard, same voice. It's all the same. It's freaky. It really is.

Yet another conclusion she has come to is that he probably (okay, definitely) thinks she is some sort of creeper.

Look, it's not her fault that he doesn't age and it's fascinating, all right? Anyone would find it fascinating. Besides, she wasn't staring that much. ...She doesn't think.

At a quarter to seven, she is sitting impatiently in the living room waiting for her mother to get ready and for her father to come back from taking mini-her around the block in a quick trick or treat session. As she's sitting there, the memories are being imprinted into her mind. God, that Alice in Wonderland costume is uncomfortable. She keeps tripping on it and Daddy keeps having to pick her up and carry her, even though she is almost two years old and she loves to _run._

Oh, ow.

She just tripped on her costume and fell.

(There is something about this that makes her want to laugh. She's not quite sure what it is, but she can feel giggles beginning to creep up in her throat. It's weirdly unnerving to have memories just _implant_ themselves in her brain and she laughs when she's nervous.)

She heaves an impatient huff and looks at the clock. Honestly, what is taking Mom so long? Damn it! No! Dean and Ruby! They're _Dean _and_ Ruby _here! Not Mom and Dad. She is really going to have to start remembering that if she doesn't want to blow her cover. She looks at the clock again. She supposes it's not that big of a deal. The Halloween party at Mikail's doesn't start until 7:30 and her mother is definitely going to want to be fashionably late in order to make a big entrance to get the rakshasa on the hook faster.

The problem is that Alex doesn't have a whole lot of patience stored up in all that testosterone and Mommy Issues-riddled brain of his and he's getting majorly antsy. Therefore he is blowing up her 2010 cell phone (as surprising as this may sound, cellular devices are not all that different in the future; apparently you can only do so much with technology before you've done it all...) with texts that range from inquiring to stressed to frustrated and all the way to bored, which leads to _dirty._

Her phone buzzes in her pocket and when she opens the latest text and reads it, she lets out a startled ''eep'' sound and blushes deeply. There are instant tingles in _places. _And she's sitting in a room with her surrogate grandfather, so it's awkward and uncomfortable. She excuses herself quickly, ducking into the kitchen and pressing speed dial. ''Cut it out,'' she demands harshly when he answers.

_''Oh, so you don't want me to do that thing with my fingers?''_

''You're an ass.''

She can practically hear him smirk._ ''Well, it's a good thing you love me despite all of my numerous flaws, huh, babe?''_

''Stop sexting me while my grandfather is in the room. It's fuckin' creepy.''

_''Go in a different room.''_

''You want me to lock myself in another room in my parent's house with my mother and grandfather in the house just so I can sext you?''

_''All right, it sounds weird when you say it.''_

And then she ends the call, slipping her phone back into her pocket and sticking her nose up in the air decisively. Pervert.

The doorbell rings for about the hundredth time (already! and it's only a quarter to seven!) and saves her from having to drag herself back into the living room to make forced small talk with Bobby. Forgetting for a moment that she does not belong here, she strides casually out into the foyer and grabs the bowl of candy by the door, swinging it open with ease. Instead of being greeted by yet another Lady Gaga or Edward Cullen, she finds herself staring down at...herself. Itsty Bitsy Lila Bray stares up at her, looking cheerful and oddly pleased with herself despite the dried tears on her chubby cheeks from the face plant, tiny pumpkin candy bucket held tightly in her hands like a treasure of utmost importance.

Dean, crouched beside the world's smallest Alice in Wonderland, looks slightly startled. ''Oh,'' he says. ''Mary. ...Okay, you'll do.''

Full sized Bray blinks. ''...Thanks ever so.''

Dean focuses all of his attention back on the toddler, smiling widely. ''Okay, sugar, let's give this one more try. Say it like we practiced.''

Mini-me looks up at her future self and says plainly, big grin on her face. ''Candy.'' She thrusts out her bucket, looking immensely proud of herself. ''I want candy.''

Dean makes a noise halfway between a laugh and a sigh and covers his face with his hands.

Bray - the taller one - shrugs. ''Eh, I think that's good enough.'' And then she gives herself an entire handful of candy because she thinks she deserves it. (Yeah, it's getting confusing. She's going to have to come up with a nickname to call the teeny her.)

''Now what do you say, sugar?''

Sugar (all right then, that'll work) glows. ''More!''

He groans and hangs his head. ''For God's sake.''

Suddenly, Bray has a memory of doing that shtick at every house on the block and getting extra candy almost every time because of the adorableness factor. Clearly, she inherited her con artist abilities from both of her parents combined.

''_Thank you,_ Lila Bray,'' Dean explains, scooping his daughter and her candy into his arms. ''We say thank you to the nice lady.''

''No!''

''No.'' He sighs. ''Of course no. You are a real piece of work, aren't you?''

''...No?''

''Uh-huh. Come on, Alice.'' He gently untangles the bucket of candy from her tiny fingers and steps over the threshold. ''Time to come home from Wonderland.''

Bray - again: the taller one - snickers lightly and shuts the door behind them, putting the candy bowl back down. Naturally, as soon as she does, the doorbell rings again. After she hands out candy to Harry Potter, Justin Bieber, a dinosaur and, for some reason, a box of Kleenex, she heads back into the living room where _Sugar_ is happily licking away at a red lollipop her father is holding for her. Wow, she was quite the little diva, wasn't she? She flicks her hair over her shoulder. Thank God she's matured. (...Right...)

''Tomorrow,'' Dean says, propping his feet up on the coffee table as _Sugar_ cuddles into his chest. ''You're only going to eat fruit and vegetables.'' And then he adds in a mumble, ''Guarantee your gramps is gonna eat all of your candy tonight anyway.''

''I heard that,'' Bobby grumbles. ''Idjit.''

And Bray has to look away from Dean and Sugar, swallowing thickly. She really misses _her_ dad. She and Alex haven't even been gone a week, but it feels like she hasn't seen her father in forever. Her anxiety is beginning to act up, stress levels rising considerably as the inevitable big fight with the monster of the week draws closer and closer. Ironically, monsters are usually the only things that don't fill her up to the brim with anxiety, but this one is different. If she doesn't stop history from changing with one fatal mistake, she will never see her dad again and that's a whole lotta pressure for a girl with major stress and anxiety issues to deal with.

''Ruby!'' Dean calls out, jerking Bray out of her thoughts before she can give herself a panic attack. ''You ready yet?''

''Two minutes!''

''Are you sure you know what you're doing?'' Bobby asks gruffly.

In response, Dean sends him _the look._ ''Do you even have to ask that?''

''Just be careful,'' Bobby orders, leveling Dean with a steady stare. He shoots a somewhat cautious look in Bray's direction. ''All of you.''

''Don't worry,'' Dean assures him. ''We'll be fine. If you ask me, you're the one who's going to need all the luck he can get. You're the one who has to watch Little Miss Wonderland over there.''

On cue, Sugar, who has slid off the couch and snatched up her loot, dumps out all of her candy onto the floor. When Bobby winces lightly, Dean laughs. The little girl stares down at her pile of candy and painstakingly picks up three pieces of candy, incredibly focused on her newest task. She wanders over to Bobby first and hands him a piece, which he takes, looking bemused and slightly touched all at the same time. Then she hands one to her dad, who makes a huge deal out of the simple gesture, praising her like she has just turned wine into water, exclaiming in a booming voice, ''Oh, thank you, sugar! How'd you know these were my favourite?''

Fighting off an incredibly illogical burst of jealousy, Bray crosses her arms, tries not to pout and tunes it out. She passes the time by staring longingly at the stairs, waiting impatiently for her mother to come down the stairs so they can get this shit over with. But then there's a tug on her shirt and her attention is pulled back to perfect little mini-me who gets all of Dad's attention and...and she must be really messed up to be jealous of herself. Sugar stares up at her intently. All of a sudden, Bray is about eighty five-ish percent sure that Alice over there knows exactly who she is.

''What?'' She eventually spits out awkwardly. Yeah, she's not _great _with kids, in case that wasn't obvious. She has no idea how to talk to them or how to act around them. Alex is super with kids because he has amazing levels of patience. Her? Not so much. Even with her little cousins, everything is all awkward and uncomfortable and...bad. It's a character flaw. She's learned to accept it. Sugar offers her a piece of candy. ''Oh...'' Bray isn't sure how one can make accepting a piece of candy awkward, but she's sure she does. ''I, uh...um, thank you?''

Sugar stays right where she is.

''I... What? Do you want a tip or something?'' She turns panicked, desperate eyes to her dad. ''What do I do?''

Dean looks like he's about thirty seconds away from bursting into laughter. ''You're not a people person, are you, Mare?''

''I'm not good with kids, okay?''

A bark of laughter escapes his lips. ''Hey, sugar,'' he crooks a finger at his daughter. ''Come sit with dad.'' Bray lets out a sigh of relief as Sugar toddles away to climb up onto the sofa next to her daddy, peering up at him questioningly as if she doesn't understand how anyone could be that uncomfortable around her. (No, really, that's _precisely _what she's thinking. Bray knows that.) ''It's okay,'' Dean assures her, rubbing her back. ''Mary's just not fun.''

''Hey!''

''Okay!'' Hurried footsteps on the stairs sound as Ruby sprints down the stairs, voice floating over to them before they catch sight of her. ''I'm ready. How do I look?'' All eyes shift to Ruby and nobody says a word, because nobody knows what to say. Well, that's not exactly true. Dean does choke on his Snickers bar. Loudly. Sugar grins and giggles as she looks over the back of the couch.

Bray opens her mouth to say something along the lines of, _You have no idea how disturbing this is for me_, but wisely snaps her jaw shut at the last minute and rethinks her reaction. Eventually, she settles for a quiet, stunned, ''Holy Jesus _fuck_'' instead. Out of all of the things that are unsettling about this little vacation to the past of hers, this is totally at the top of the list.

Her mother's - and this would be the part where Bray is all too aware that yes, this is her mother - costume, which Bray can only assume is some sort of sexy angel, consists of a barely there, skin tight white dress that looks like it's freaking painted on, skyscraper white heels that Bray would never be able to walk in and some sort of halo thingamabob that looks like it's made out of tinsel. Basically, it's a costume that Uncle Cas would take extreme offense to. As he should. It looks nothing like a real angel. Suppose that's kind of the point, though.

Sugar is the one to break the silence at last, clapping her hands and squealing out a cry of, ''Mommy's pretty!''

''Ruby, you're wearing a band aid,'' Bobby deadpans. ''How is this going to be practical?''

Ruby smoothes out invisible wrinkles on her dress and Dean lets loose some sort of odd squeaking sound that makes Bray uncomfortable. ''I can make it work.''

''How can you breathe in that thing?'' Bray asks incredulously.

''Breathing is not the point of Halloween.'' Ruby puts one hand on her hip and sends them all that narrowed eyed look of hers that always used to mean _you're grounded_ to Bray and Connor. ''Look, you want me to get this guy's attention, right? I'm bait, remember? I'm just making sure I look the part.'' She eyes Dean closely, who still hasn't said a word, jaw practically unhinged. ''And why are you suddenly so quiet?''

''It's...not very realistic,'' he finally sputters out, breathlessly.

She smirks wryly. ''Well, I thought about wearing a crooked tie and a dirty trench coat, but I didn't think that would be very sexy. Do you?''

He doesn't answer immediately. ''I'm just...gonna need a minute to...formulate sentences and...'' He rakes his eyes over her and sucks in a breath. ''...You know...say words - wow. _Wow._ You look...I wanna...'' He trails off in a slight chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. ''There are so many things I want to say to you right now, but our kid's in the room.''

Bobby huffs, most likely thinking something like _I'm surrounded by horny idjits. Give me strength._

Bray wrinkles her nose in disgust. ''Yes, _please _remember _your kid _is in the room.''

For a brief moment in time, Ruby almost looks like she's seconds away from blushing, eyes still on Dean.

Bray fights the urge to roll her eyes. Well, it's nice to know her parents still eye fuck just as much in the past as they do in the future. ''All right!'' She claps her hands together, jarring Dean and Ruby out of their eye sex. ''Who's ready to get this show on the road?'' She places herself conveniently in between them. ''Let's go kill ourselves a freaky ass monster.''

.

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_8:19 pm, Mikail's Pub_

Seduction is a lot like hunting. The two games are closely related, woven by the same threads. It's a con. And maybe it's not something to be proud of, but Ruby is well aware that she and Dean could most definitely maintain an incredibly healthy lifestyle financially if they chose to go into the business of con artistry. Dean has spent his entire life doing it and Ruby may be a mother and a spouse-like person, but she is still a demon and manipulative is still in the job description.

She's not expecting to have any problems with running a con on Mr. I-Like-To-Eat-Girls-And-Not-In-The-Fun-Way. Simple game of seduction. Nothing fancy. She knows this play by heart.

After the party has been in full swing for about forty five minutes, she struts into the bar, peels off her jacket, and instantly feels eyes on her. She smirks. She had forgotten how good it feels to be admired.

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_8:45 pm, Warehouse_

''Dude, you have got to unclench.''

In the dark, empty warehouse that smells absolutely awful, Bray swears she can hear her father grit his teeth in frustration at her flippant remark. Absently twirling the brass knife in her hand, she sits on the grimy and dirty cold floor, watching as he stares out the window intently, focused on the only slightly obstructed view of Mikail's. ''What time is it?'' He barks out impatiently, just as she opens her mouth to say something to him.

She swallows a groan of exasperation and falls back, lying flat on her back and staring up at the gross stains on the ceiling. ''8:46, Dean. Exactly two minutes after the last time you asked. Can you please try to calm down?''

He licks his lips, something she knows he does when he's feeling anxious. Hey, she has a bone to pick with the universe. How come she didn't inherit that trait? When her father's stressed or anxious, he either licks or chews on his lips. When she's stressed or anxious, she has big massive, sometimes debilitating panic attacks. Now that's just not fair. ''I don't like her being in there alone,'' he says simply, seemingly ignoring her request.

''Alone?'' She sniffs. ''It's an overcrowded Halloween party at a popular bar. She's hardly alone. Also,'' she frowns, arching an eyebrow. ''_Also. _This is _your_ plan.''

He smiles a humorless smile, a surefire sign that he is now beginning to do that thing where he beats himself up over putting her in the possible line of fire. ''Well, now the regret's sinkin' in.''

She heaves herself back into a sitting position. ''Well, tell it to fuck off,'' she monotones. ''We don't have time for self-recrimination. And might I point out that this is Ruby we're talking about? The real life equivalent of Angel: The Vampire With a Soul. Except she's not a vampire, she's a demon, but... You know, same idea.''

He turns to look at her.

She shrugs. ''What? You think her name doesn't get around hunting circles?'' She points a warning finger in his direction. ''And I was serious about the whole calming down thing. I can feel your anxiety and it's really stressing me out. Just so you know, I'm prone to panic attacks.''

A small huff of dry laughter escapes his lips and he turns his gaze to her once again. ''Ever think maybe you're in the wrong line of work?''

''You know,'' she ducks her head with a soft smile. ''Hunting doesn't damage everyone, Dean.''

''I just want to know you're not doing this for the wrong reasons,'' he tells her quietly, meeting her eyes the second she looks up at him.

''Why? Why do you care?''

''You're too young for this, Mary,'' he spits out at her, and maybe it's her imagination, but she thinks she detects a hint of desperation in his voice. ''You said that this is a legacy thing for you,'' he adds, ''and I'm not sure that's a good reason to want this life. There is no good reason to _want_ this life. I...'' He breaks off in a sigh, wincing lightly, ducking his head. ''I knew this girl once and she could've had a great life. A safe, normal life, but she didn't. She didn't because she chose to become a hunter, to become one of us. She wanted it. And why? Because of some twisted sense of family 'cause her father was a hunter. And do you know what happened to her, Mary? She _died_.'' His shoulders twitch upwards in some odd version of a shrug. ''Maybe I just don't want to see that happen to anyone else.''

Not hard to figure out who he's talking about there. Bray gets to her feet and takes a step towards him, trying to figure out how to have this conversation without revealing her true identity. ''Dean...'' She pauses and gives him a thin, sad smile. She may not remember much about the Harvelle women, but she remembers that her family loved them both and that's more than enough to let her know that they were good people. ''I am not Jo Harvelle. I'm just not. And believe me when I say that I _know_ how dangerous it can be, but trust me...I know what I'm doing.''

He continues to stare at her, disbelief evident on his features. She doesn't even know why she's trying. Her father has made his views on hunting perfectly clear. When she was thirteen and she told him she wanted to learn how to hunt properly, he threatened to lock her in her room and she didn't talk to him for a week. When she moved out at eighteen, right after she graduated and let him know that she was going to be taking a year off before she started college and yes, she was going to be hunting whether he approved or not, they got in a big blowout fight, their similar personalities clashing violently until it ended in her bawling her eyes out and him storming out of her unfurnished apartment, door slamming behind him. She didn't speak to her father for a whole month after that fight. It was hell. In the four months that have passed since said fight, her dad has begrudgingly accepted that he can't change her mind. If she wants hunting in her life, he can't make her stop. He's still not happy about it, but at least he's talking to her. Faced with this man, she's learning that it could have been way worse. There is no way that this version of her father would have ever accepted her choices. He actually would have made good on his threat to tie her up and lock her in her room.

''It's not like hunting is all I have,'' she blurts out. ''I don't know what you think my life is like, but I actually have one aside from hunting. I have a job and everything. Next year I'll be starting college. I plan on becoming a nurse. I'm only taking a year off to...'' She lifts a shoulder in a shrug. ''Get my jollies out.''

''Good,'' he responds stiffly. He pushes away from the window, eyes locked on her. She's getting a little uncomfortable. That would be his decoding face and she's starting to get really scared that if he continues to try and read her like an open book, he'll be able to see all of her secrets. He'll be able to see who she really is. And she can't have that. She just _can't. _It would be a liability. ''If you've got everything all fuckin' planned out, then why are you even wasting your time with this shit? Do you really need it that badly?''

Honestly? Yes. She does. There is a big part of her that just needs it. She needs the adrenaline and hell, even the fear. She loves the as-normal-as-it-can-get life her parents have worked their asses off trying to give her, she really does. But hunting is just part of her. It's in her genetic makeup. It's who she is. She's not planning on doing it forever, she doesn't want to do it forever, but she needs the little glimpses that she gets. It's important to her. She needs the taste of ash and blood. It's the way she's wired. Her cousins may not want any part of this life, but her and Connor... Despite what their parents say, they were built for this. (Connor especially, but that's a whole 'nother story...)

''Yes,'' she answers honestly. ''I do.''

''Why?''

She turns her back to him and bites her lip. ''It's in my blood,'' she says quietly. ''It's part of who I am.'' She spins around to face him and smiles widely, eyes twinkling. ''And that's not a bad thing, Dean. Really, it's not. Have a little faith in people. Some hunters are perfectly happy and content with their lives. What's wrong with that?'' She laughs a little, shaking her head. ''Faith, Dean. Remember that.''

He scoffs and looks away from her, going back to staring out the window.

She rolls her eyes. Tough egg to crack. Her phone vibrates in her pocket, taking her attention away from her father and his stubbornness. Turning away, she fishes her phone out and skims the new text from Alex. _Sam and the Campbell Clan are taken care of. They're leaving town. I'm heading to you._

She frowns and looks over her shoulder. She texts back, _No. Stay where you are. I'll call you when it's all over._ She turns her phone off without waiting for a reply and takes a deep calming breath to quell her rising nerves.

''Okay,'' Dean pipes up, voice tight and rough. ''I see 'em. They're...'' He tilts his head to the side and leans a little closer to the window, nearly pressing his nose right up against the disgustingly filthy glass. ''Hey, Mary?''

Bray clears her throat. ''Hmm?''

''Ruby went over the plan with you too, didn't she?

''Um, yeah. Why?''

''Did she mention anything about playing drunk? ...Or drugged?''

Her heart drops. (Awesome. Come to save her dad, get her mom date raped. Super.) ''No.''

Dean instantly pushes off the wall and spins on his heel, unsheathing his own brass knife faster than she thought possible. ''Something's wrong. He's done something to her.'' He stalks towards the door, looking positively murderous and she hurries after him, trying to make as little noise as possible. Well, there goes the plan. The heavy metal door clangs open, alerting them to another, darker, way more sinister presence. Dean grabs Bray around the waist and pulls her out of sight, covering her mouth with his hand. Safely out of sight, he practically squishes her into him while he peers cautiously around the corner, just enough to see the rakshasa.

He's wearing the same human disguise he was wearing earlier, just an average looking man that no one would take a second look at because he doesn't look dangerous. In the doorway, Ruby is leaning heavily against the doorframe, trying to hold herself up. The rakshasa looks beyond baffled, staring at her closely with narrowed eyes. The guy honestly looks confused. Shrugging it off, he grasps her wrists and talks over her slurred protests, struggling to keep her in his hold. ''You're a strong little thing, aren't you?'' He gets out through his teeth as he lifts her into his arms. ''Gonna have to do something about that.''

Dean tenses noticeably, entire body going rigid and stiff with rage. Bray's pretty sure her heartbeat is going way too fast. (She really hopes she doesn't have a panic attack. That would be the worst timing in the world.)

Whistling to himself like some deranged host holding the world's worst (and creepiest) party, the rakshasa slowly and deliberately makes his way up the stairs, Ruby all but lifeless in his arms.

''This doesn't make any sense,'' Dean mutters to himself once the rakshasa has disappeared. He removes his hand from over Bray's mouth, still staring up the stairs. He's looking kind of deranged himself right now, eyes wild with panic. ''Why would he - ''

''Dean.'' A sudden and awful thought has just occurred to Bray, curling in the pit of her stomach like poison. ''How sure are you that all he did to those women was use them as a food source?''

Dean looks at her, blinks, and then blows whatever is left of the plan to bits. He shoves past her with grumbled profanity that she's not comfortable repeating and races up the stairs, drawing his gun. She chases after him, knife clenched tightly in her hand.

''How are you not unconscious yet?'' The rakshasa is hissing angrily. ''I gave you enough GHB to knock out an elephant.'' The sound of a palm slapping against skin echoes, followed by him yelping in pain. And then they hear the sound of something hard and heavy hitting a skull and everything goes quiet.

Bray swallows down the bile creeping up her throat and tries to remind herself that this is Mom we're talking about. She'll be fine. Roofies and head trauma can't touch her. Not in this time period.

Dean thunders down the hallway and boots in the door, abandoning all plans and every stealthy bone in his body to save Ruby. Bray supposes she really should have seen that one coming. Inside of the dusty, dark room, Ruby is now definitely down for the count, lying unconscious on the rakshasa's deflated mattress, bleeding from the wound on her forehead. The rakshasa, one hand creeping up her bare leg, whirls around. Dean fires a shot. The bullet that embeds itself right between the rakshasa's eyes is not enough to kill it, but it surely startles the creature, sending it staggering backwards, away from Ruby. It lets loose a ripping snarl and disappears, effectively turning invisible and making it that much more difficult for the people who are trying to kill it. Dean doesn't appear to give a rat's ass about the plan, rushing towards Ruby.

Dean has his back to the open space, attention on Ruby, but Bray's eyes are peeled for anything that could tell her where the monster is. Which is precisely how she notices the crowbar going straight for her father's head. ''Dean!'' He spins around and catches the crowbar before it can bash his skull in. Bray dives forwards, fully intending to stab the bastard, but unfortunately it's really hard to kill something you can't see. An unseen hand wraps around her throat before she can do anything. The crowbar falls to the ground. Another icy cold hand locks around her wrist and twists until she can't hold onto her knife anymore, small noise of pain slipping past her lips. The hands push and she goes backwards, stumbling into the wall.

Dean takes a swing, but only gets air. ''Where the fuck did it go?'' He gets out through clenched teeth.

As if responding to Dean's tense question, the rakshasa's hands tangle in Bray's hair and she feels herself being lifted and thrown through the air. She lands in a crumpled heap on the floor, pain shooting through every part of her. That is gonna hurt like a motherfucking bitch tomorrow. This is certainly not going according to plan, now is it? Perhaps it's time for a new plan. She has to blink to clear her vision, trying to shrug it off because now her father's all alone and she can't have that. She rolls onto her stomach and pushes herself onto her hands and knees, crawling towards her knife.

Dean, fingers curled around the crowbar, eyes darting around the room wildly, takes a swing the second he hears the quiet shuffle of feet and by some miracle, it connects. The rakshasa, unseen but fortunately not unheard, grunts in pain. Running on pure instinct and adrenaline, Bray follows the sound and lunges forwards with the knife. Blood drips to the floor. It's not a fatal wound, just a mere slash wound in what feels like the abdomen area, a nice scar to go along with the scratch marks on his cheek from her mother, but it's something. A step in the right direction.

All goes silent.

Dean has hastily discarded the crowbar by now, opting to brandish his own brass knife instead. Bray doesn't like this. It's the not knowing that's the worst. This is why there aren't any blind hunters out there. You need to be able to see your prey to hunt it. As of right now, the roles seem to have changed. But then, seemingly out of nowhere, her father stumbles forwards like he's been pushed. His instinct is to whip around and swing his knife, receiving nothing in reward. He groans loudly and doubles over, curling into himself like he's been punched in the gut. She tries to intervene - She tries so hard, but she can't see it. She doesn't know where it is and all that she gets in return is a backhanded slap.

She goes to the ground, seeing stars. The unmistakable sound of a knife clattering to the ground cuts through the fog and the ringing in her ears. She moans, putting a hand to her aching head. When she lifts her eyes, vision blurred, she sees her father stagger. His knife is on the floor and she doesn't know what happened to hers, but she doesn't see it. And then it happens. She sees _him _over her father's shoulder, flickering in and out of visibility. The rakshasa has a demented looking grin on his face and her knife in his hand and he is going straight for her father.

Lila Bray Winchester is many things, but one of the things that stand out about her is that she is a Daddy's Girl. All the way. She loves her mother; she can talk to her for hours at a time about nothing and everything, but Connor is the one who gravitates towards their mother like it's just in his nature. It's the way things are, the way they have always been. Connor is a Mama's Boy and Bray is a Daddy's Girl. Her father is the center of her universe and the glue that keeps her together. When she was little, she thought he hung the goddamn moon and put the stars in the sky for her. She didn't know much when she was little, but she knew he was all hers. He belonged to her. He painted all the pictures, wrote all the songs, told every story, made the sun come out. He chased the monsters away (literally and figuratively), he helped her breathe her way through every panic attack she has ever had, and when she was a little girl (in fact about two years from now) he promised her that ''no matter what - no matter _what, _sugar - you will always have me. Are you hearin' me, Lila Bray? Are you listening? _Always._''

''I gave birth to her,'' Mom has always told him, ''but you have her heart in your eyes. There is nobody in the world who can fuck with that.''

And she is not now nor will she ever be ready to see what a world without him and that promise looks like, so she reacts. It's instinct. Human nature. This is her dad.

He hung the fuckin' moon, remember?

''No!'' Her voice is a shrill and beyond petrified sounding scream and before she even has a chance to think any of this through, she's on her feet and she's _reacting._ She uses all of her strength and throws all her weight into shoving her father out of the way so hard he goes to the ground and she takes his place. ...It's not at all like how it's described in the movies, you know. It doesn't happen in slow motion, her life does not flash before her eyes, and there is no white light. There's just a burst of white hot agony and then she feels something warm dripping down her stomach and staining her shirt. When she looks down, there's a knife sticking out of her abdomen. She should be more surprised that this is the way things turned out. But she's not.

_The plight of a Winchester, _she remembers. _The Winchester way._

The rakshasa pulls the knife out of her stomach with a satisfied sounding smile and someone whimpers. She thinks it might be her, but it sounds so far away. At first, there's a burning, searing kind of pain that defies description and on a scale of one to ten, it's about a trillion, and then comes the worst nausea she has ever felt in her life and then more pain. Her shaking hands are covered in blood and an ugly cold begins to spread throughout her body. But she saved her dad. She saved everyone. (She saved her brother.) A small smile flickers on her lips.

The monster standing before her begins to make an odd sort of gasping noise. When she raises her eyes, the tip of a knife is poking out of its throat and blood is running out of its mouth. Whoa. Did she do that? She didn't do that, did she? Did _Dad?_ The body slumps to the ground and she lets out a relieved cry when she sees her savior, tears spilling down her cheeks.

And Alex is there to catch her when she falls.

**end part two**

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><p><strong>AN: Yeah... Holy cliffhanger, Batman! Sorry about that. I'm a bad person. Don't forget to leave me your thoughts on teen!Bray. I think the only time I ever wrote her was for 'Tell me my name' and that wasn't really her, that was AU!Bray and she was completely and totally messed up. This is the real Bray. Is she likeable enough for you guys? (...Because now I kinda wanna write more of her...)<strong>


	3. I wonder if I've been changed

_AN: And here we have it! The final part! Honestly, I think this story is probably my favourite Halloween story that I've ever written. I don't even know what it is about it, but I absolutely adore it. And I hope you guys love it as much as I do!_

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

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><p><strong>Rabbit Hole<strong>

_Written by Becks Rylynn_

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><p><em>Part Three<em>

_''I wonder if I've been changed in the night?''_

.

.

.

_12:33 am, Sioux Falls General Hospital_

The last thing she remembers is hearing Alex's voice saying, ''no, no, no, baby, don't go to sleep'' and feeling her father's hands trying to stop the bleeding. Because Alex has a very distinctive voice (it's usually the last thing she hears before she goes to sleep at night and the first thing she hears in the morning when she wakes up) and her father has very distinctive hands (they're the hands that have rubbed her back during panic attacks and held her hand when she had nightmares).

It must be bad then. Alex only ever calls her_ baby _when something's wrong and Daddy's hands are only ever that gentle when she's hurt.

She blinks open her bleary eyes and stares at the distorted view of the ceiling. She feels groggy and a little loopy, head feeling fuzzy, mouth unbearably dry and woolly. She is most definitely out of sorts. She closes her eyes when the world lurches unpleasantly, bringing a hand to her head with a moan. When she finally plucks up the courage to open her eyes again, her eyes fall on the IV in her hand and the realization hits her like a ton of bricks.

Ah, yes. This would be a hospital. She's in the hospital.

The events leading up to this lovely moment in time come rushing back in a flood of memories and her body reacts to it in the way that it has grown accustomed to. By panicking. It's like a wave. It comes crashing down on her with a load roaring sound and covers her, pulling her under. The soft beeping in her ears gets faster and louder and her slow, even breaths get more frantic and short as her body begins to tremble in that all too familiar way that signals an oncoming panic attack. She all but bolts upright and her hand automatically goes to her stomach when she feels a sharp stab of pain (heh, not funny).

''Oh no,'' she hears a voice murmur. It sounds like it's coming from underwater, too far away to fully break through the haze of panic beginning to enclose her. ''Don't do that, Lila,'' he says firmly. ''You're okay. Your dad's okay.'' His hand cups her cheek gently, the other curling around hers. ''You did it, babe. You saved him. You gotta try and calm down for me, all right?''

She squeezes her eyes shut and tries to breathe through it before it can get any worse. Tears are clogging her throat and she still feels uncomfortably shaky, but her breathing is slowly returning to almost normal, which is a good sign because she doesn't imagine that having a full blown panic attack with a hole in her stomach would be a fun experience. She opens her eyes again, giving Alex a weak smile. ''Okay,'' she slurs, leaning into his hand slightly and letting out a breath. ''I think I'm okay.'' She grimaces at the nasty taste in her mouth, licking her dry lips. ''Is there any water?'' She rasps out.

He holds a cup of water to her lips for her, eyeing her closely the entire time. Why does she get the feeling she's about to get an earful? She swallows the last sip of water and leans back against the pillows, rubbing at her forehead. God, she is so high right now. ''Why are you looking at me like that?'' She whispers at him, because she can fucking _feel_ him staring at her with that furrowed brow, frowny face look on his face.

''What did I say, Lila?'' He practically growls out, eyes darkened considerably. ''What was the one thing I asked you to do for me? What was the _one_ thing?''

She huffs out a sigh. ''Don't do stupid shit,'' she recites robotically.

''Don't do stupid shit,'' he echoes slowly. ''And what did you do?''

She smiles innocently and pretends to think about that. ''Um...stupid shit?''

He leaps to his feet, glaring down at her intensely. ''Stupid shit!''

''You sound like a fuckin' parrot,'' she has to point out needlessly.

''You got fucking lucky this time,'' he snarls out at her, pointing a finger at her. ''No vital organs punctured, little to no internal bleeding, no severed arteries. You got_ lucky_.''

''Well, that's good, right?''

''But think about how much you would have changed if you had... If it had been worse.'' He stops to take in a few breaths, a stricken look crossing his face as if his heart has stopped beating inside his chest for a moment. ''Think about what it would have done to your family. Your parents, your uncles, your _brother_, me. Jesus Christ, woman, you never think! I need you to _think! _Use that pretty little head of yours! Would it have been worth it, Lila? If you had died? Would it have been worth it?''

She doesn't even have to think about it. She understands that he's venting because he's freaked, but he asked and she's going to answer, whether he wants to hear the answer or not. She squares her jaw and looks up at him, right into his eyes. ''Yes.'' It would have been worth it. Every second. ''I can't live without my dad, Alex.''

He looks at her with those damn piercing eyes of his and yells back, ''Well, I can't live without you!''

She silences and has to look down at her lap, playing with her hands nervously. She resists the urge to glance over at the heart monitor to see if her heart has actually skipped a beat. ''I'm sorry I scared you,'' she says quietly.

He deflates. She knew he would. He goes towards her knee, dipping into the mattress as he leans forwards to kiss her forehead and her cheeks and her lips with his hands in her hair and his eyes closed. ''I just...I can't lose you, Lila,'' he whispers hoarsely. ''I can't. You're all I've got.''

She tries to have a non reaction to that, but she fails horribly, tears pooling in her eyes as she reaches up to wrap her arms around his neck. She stubbornly pushes them away, swallowing it all down. ''I know,'' she whispers, attempting to hide her grimace of pain. It doesn't work, of course, and he draws away from her instantly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before moving back to sink back into the chair next to the bed. ''And I'm sorry,'' she goes on. ''I really am. But you know I had to do it, Alex, and you know I'd do it again. It was my dad, okay? But...'' She smiles brightly in an attempt to placate him and get his fried nerves under control. ''I'm fine. I'm okay and you're okay and my dad's okay. Everything's good.''

He shuts his eyes and slouches in his chair, rubbing at his temples where a headache is undoubtedly forming. That's when it really hits her that it's currently the middle of the night, he's way past stressed, and he hasn't slept in at least forty eight hours, if not more. ''Alex,'' she murmurs, ''maybe you should go get a cup of coffee or something.''

''I would love to have a cup of coffee,'' he deadpans. ''But your mom cut me off after my seventh cup.''

Her eyes get wide. ''Mom!'' A gasp escapes her lips and she jolts in the bed, instantly groaning and gasping in pain. She waves it off. ''Oh my god, Alex! My mom! Is she okay? She was - ''

A knock on the door interrupts the opening strings of another potential panic attack and a smiling nurse pops her head in. ''Well, hello there!''

Bray blinks at her and doesn't say what she's really thinking, because that would be rude. (''Lady, you are way too peppy for this ungodly hour.'') ''...Hi.''

The smiling, bubbly nurse shuffles farther into the room and begins to fuss with a bunch of crap that Bray is not at all certain she wants some obviously over caffeinated night shift nurse messing with. See, this is why she's not a huge fan of hospitals. It's not the hospital itself that she dislikes; it's not even the idea of one. It's the people. She doesn't like people. Especially not ones in the healthcare profession. They're all smiley and shit. And most of them aren't even that hot. Despite what Dr. Sexy MD may have you believing, there aren't a whole lot of attractive male nurses out there. It's unfortunate, really. (Again: Very high right now.) ''I'm just checking your vitals,'' the nurse says, when she catches Bray's puckered lips, disapproving look. ''How are you feeling?'' She adds on cheerfully.

Bray stares at her blankly. ''High.''

Smiley laughs and pats her hand. (Bray wrinkles her nose at that.) ''That's the morphine. Can I get you anything?''

''Whatever you're on might do the trick.''

Alex clears his throat loudly and hacks violently into his hand, foot jerking out to kick at the bed. ''Sorry,'' he says when the nurse turns to look at him. ''Something...caught in my throat.''

Bray rolls her eyes and gives Nurse Perky an over exaggerated winning smile. ''I'm fine,'' she says in her best sickly sweet voice. ''Thank you _so much_, though.''

Unfazed, the nurse smiles some more. Woman's gonna friggin' break her jaw if she ain't careful. ''Now,'' she says, fluffing Bray's pillows, much to the chagrin of the unimpressed patient. ''Technically, it's past visiting hours, but since I've already made an exception for this one - '' she sends another smile in Alex's direction '' - your father would like to see you. You think you're up for that?''

Bray goes completely still and her eyes widen to the size of saucers. She's sure it must be quite the comical image. ''M-My dad?''

Alex holds his hands up when she looks at him imploringly. ''I didn't say a word.''

''Aw, come on now, Lila Bray. You really think I wouldn't know my own daughter? Give me a little credit.''

Bray feels her stomach clench as she swings her gaze to Dean, who's standing there in the doorway smirking at her. She can't even have a panic attack right now, that's how stunned she is. There were a lot of emergency plans put in place for this little time traveling adventure. But this was never in the plans. She thinks that the appropriate reaction would be something along the lines of _oh no, he can't know! It'll fuck everything up! It'll ruin it!_ But to be honest, all she can think right now is _it's my dad._

And then she wants to cry. A lot. Suddenly, she wants to break down and sob and crawl in her parents bed like she did when she was little and her dad would rub her back and her mom would stroke her hair and they'd call her ''sugar'' and ''baby girl'' and she can't do that anymore because, you know, she's a_ grown up _and if she wants to cuddle with someone, she's stuck with Mr. Paranoid over there and she just _misses being a kid right now _and she needs a minute, okay? (So, so high.)

''Uh,'' Alex gets to his feet with a small laugh and touches the bemused nurse on the arm briefly. ''I think we should give them a minute...'' He squints at her nametag in the dim light of the room. ''...Marcie. Do you think you could point the way to the nearest coffee machine?'' Once Alex has led her out of the room, Dean pushes off the doorway and enters the room. Except this isn't _Dean_ anymore, is it? No. No, this is _Daddy_.

She opens her mouth to say something, but no words come out. Her mouth has dried up again. ''When...When did you figure it out?'' She finally manages to cough out. ''Where did I screw up?''

''You didn't screw up,'' he objects, moving the chair closer to the bed and taking a seat. ''You're just...'' He laughs softly, a quiet and genuine chuckle that has him ducking his head and looking away momentarily like he always does when he's truly amused and slightly touched. ''You stand exactly like your mother.''

''I..._stand _like her?''

''Mmmhmm. So it was either a freaky - and kind of creepy - coincidence or you're my kid. So which is it?''

Well, there's really no use in lying now, is there? ''I'm your kid,'' she admits quietly.

He nods brusquely and the smile fades from his lips. He studies her, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. ''Okay then.'' He leans back in his chair. ''Prove it.''

''What?''

''Prove it to me,'' he smirks. ''Make me believe in you. I want to, kid, but I just - ''

''The first time you met Mom you pointed a gun at her and called her a black eyed skank.''

He arches an eyebrow.

She sits up straighter, locking eyes with him. ''The first time you told her you loved her was right after I was born. In the delivery room. You were both exhausted and you were both _crying_ and you just looked at her and said it. And she laughed and said, ''Yeah, I figured.'' She loves telling that story. When I'm sick, you make me tomato rice soup because that's what your mom did.''

The careless smirk that is really only hiding whatever emotions he may be feeling at the moment falls away.

''When I was little, sometimes you would sing me _Hey Jude_, but it reminded you too much of Grandma so you mostly sang Kansas or Led Zeppelin, but the one song...the _one_ song that was always my favourite because it was _our _song was _Dream a Little Dream of Me._ And it's always been our song because that's yours and Mom's song.''

''Okay.'' His voice is tight and gruff and when he scrubs a hand over his face and clears his throat, she notes that he is blinking an awful lot. Normally, she'd make fun of him for it, but right now, her own eyes are stinging painfully as if she's spent her night chopping onions and it's not all that funny this time anyway. ''Just..._okay._'' He looks back at her and when he meets her eyes, his breath audibly catches. His chair scrapes back against the floor and he moves forwards at lightning speed, one hand coming to rest on her cheek. He only looks at her for about a second before he's pulling her to him and dropping a kiss to the top of her head. ''I believe you,'' he murmurs raggedly.

She lets out the breath she has been holding for days and allows herself to sink into the embrace. Her guard slips and the wall she's built comes crashing down around her violently, culminating in a dry sob pushing its way through her lips. The weight of everything that's happened and everything that almost happened comes crashing down on her all at once. The what ifs start to fill up her mind, bringing unpleasant images of the world that could have been to the surface. His arms wrap around her when she lets out a tiny little whimper, enclosing her in that familiar safety blanket that her father's presence gives her. She grasps his shirt tightly with one hand and clings to his arm with the other as the tears finally spill over. ''Oh, sugar,'' she hears him whisper into her hair, like she's made of magic, like he was afraid he'd never see her again, like he can't believe what she's done.

It's the old familiar nickname that pushes her over the edge, sending her into total hysteria, sobs wracking her body as she cries into her father's chest.

Okay, Grandpa. She did it. She saved her father. She saved wonderland. Can she go home now?

.

.

.

Her mother shows up right after her breakdown, appearing in the doorway draped in Dad's jacket with her hair wild and blood on her white dress. One minute Bray is trying to get a hold of herself and calm her breathing while Dad wipes her tears away and the next, she's looking over his shoulder and there's Mom, leaning heavily against the doorframe and then everything threatens to break again. There's really no question whether or not Mom is aware of her true identity. She definitely knows. Out of everyone, Mom was the one Bray expected to figure out the second she laid eyes on her.

Right away, Mom's lurching forwards and rushing towards Bray, stumbling slightly on her unsteady (possibly still a little bit drugged) feet and too high heels. Instantly, she's got Bray's face in her hands and she's smiling down at her with watery eyes and a_ don't fuck with me, I'm your mother _frown. ''Let me look at you,'' she breathes out hoarsely. ''Oh, Bray,'' her voice catches and her frown turns up into a shaky smile. ''You're so beautiful.'' She catches a stray tear that runs down Bray's cheek with the pad of her thumb and then her hands fall to her sides.

''Are...Are you okay?'' Bray croaks out, pretending she doesn't notice the pathetic squeak in her voice.

Mom lets out a choked laugh and looks over her shoulder at Dad. ''Yes, baby, I'm fine.'' One of her hands threads through Bray's. ''I'm more concerned with how you're doing.''

''I'm good,'' Bray nods decisively. ''Everything's good.'' She laughs quietly and nervously and looks in between her exhausted parents and their red eyes. ''Bet you guys weren't expecting this when you woke up this morning,'' she jokes weakly. ''Huh?''

Once everything has calmed down slightly and Mom and Dad have made it clear to the annoying nurses and the overworked doctor that they're not going anywhere while their daughter needs them, Dad takes up residence in the chair next to the bed and Mom kicks off her heels and crawls right into the bed with her, keeping her fingers threaded through Bray's. (There is some part of the otherwise sweet moment that is validation for them. They need to know that they've raised her right. They need to know that they didn't _break_ her like they are so obviously terrified they will.)

''Tell us everything,'' Dad says firmly.

Bray licks her lips. ''C'mon,'' she mutters, ''nobody likes exposition.''

''Lila Bray...''

She huffs. ''Okay, okay. Don't do the Dad voice. I...'' She sighs and bites the inside of her cheek anxiously. ''It all started about a week ago. I had what I thought was a dream and in it, Grandpa John was there and he was telling me that history was about to be changed.'' She pauses and isn't sure if telling them this next part is going to be beneficial for anyone. She knows her parents. It's going to make them feel all guilty and stuff. ''See...'' She looks at her hands. ''When you guys sent Michael and Lucifer packing and stopped the apocalypse, you kind of threw out the rule book.'' The tense, broken down look that Mom and Dad share is not lost on Bray. Oh, great. It's already starting. Words cannot describe how much she wants to tell them about Uncle Sam. About how he's alive and they can stop grieving and focus on getting his soul back. ''Every fate in the world was changed. People didn't have to read from a script anymore. And for some aspects of life, that was dangerous. It was like uncontrolled chaos. How could it not be dangerous? That rakshasa was supposed to keep going. He was supposed to keep going and going until he got to Nebraska so he could get his ass handed to him by Grandpa Bobby's friend, Rufus. But because you guys set fire to the handbook, fate was rendered a mere..._suggestion_. So he stopped here.'' She looks up at them intently. ''And that changed everything. I was warned that if I didn't stop him, he was going to kill you,'' she looks at her dad, ''and that would have been game over. Fate may be nothing more than a suggestion, but it's still _there_. You two still have yours.'' She looks back and forth between them apologetically. ''You still have things to do.''

Her mother looks downright horrified by that, letting out a sigh as if she's watching all dreams of a normal life fly out the window. Her father just looks tired and resigned.

Bray takes in a breath. ''When I woke up, there was an angel in my room and the next thing I know, Alex and I were being thrown through time. Back to here.''

''Why didn't you just tell us who you were?'' Dad asks quietly.

She scoffs and gapes at him incredulously. ''And what? Show up on your doorstep out of the blue and say _Hey, I'm your daughter from the future and I'm here to save your life_?''

Mom and Dad look at each other blankly. ''Yeah,'' Dad says eventually, with a firm nod. ''Pretty much.''

Bray blinks at him. ''Well...okay then,'' she says slowly. ''I'll have to remember that for next time. Look,'' she pauses and swallows thickly when her mom moves a piece of hair out of her eyes for her, fingers soft and gentle. ''All that matters is that everything's all right now. The world's back on track, we're all alive and the rakshasa's dead.''

''By the way,'' Dad wrinkles his nose in distaste. ''Speaking of that leather jacket clad savior of yours,'' he narrows his eyes distrustfully in a mirror image of the reaction he'll have in a few years when she announces that yes, she is dating the hooligan down the street and yes, she has been on the back of his motorcycle. ''I don't suppose there's any chance that he's just your...sassy gay friend?''

''Sorry,'' she giggles. ''Boyfriend.''

''Serious boyfriend?''

''We have a cat.''

''Then it's serious,'' Mom nods, chewing on her thumbnail and grinning at Dad.

Dad folds his arm. ''And this boyfriend of yours just lets you - ''

''_Lets_?'' Mom fixes him with a flat look. ''Really, Dean? _Lets_?''

''Oh no. No, I didn't mean...That wasn't what I...'' He breaks off in a wince, faltering under the matching looks he's getting from mother and daughter. ''That didn't come out right.''

''I'll say,'' Mom mutters under her breath. With a heavy, albeit largely dramatized sigh, she rolls her eyes and turns her attention back to Bray. ''How about the future?'' She asks mildly, trying a little too hard to sound nonchalant and careless about it. ''No chance of you telling us what it's like? No clues about what these things are that we supposedly have to do?''

''Sorry,'' Bray says again. ''I can't tell you. It would change things too much. Just know that everything happens for a reason and eventually, we all end up exactly where we're supposed to be.'' She leans back against the pillows, stifling a yawn. Even when her tired eyes close, she can tell they're still staring at her. She can actually hear them share one of those silent looks of theirs that makes other people think they have some sort of freaky telepathy thing going on. (Although, if anyone was going to have telepathy, it would more likely be Dad and Sam.)

''We should let you get some sleep,'' Mom says softly.

A jolt of panic slices through her and Bray's eyes snap open.

''Yeah,'' Dad agrees, starting to rise to his feet. ''We can talk more tomorrow and figure out how to get you home.''

''No!'' Bray lunges forwards to claw at her father's arm desperately, catching his wrist. ''Don't go.'' A lump forms in her throat and her terror filled eyes seem to hold her parents in place, staring up at her dad with pleading eyes. ''I don't want to be alone,'' she begs. ''Please...Please, I just got you back. Don't leave me alone, okay? Just...don't leave.''

''Okay,'' Mom soothes, rubbing her back comfortingly. ''It's okay, Bray. We won't leave.''

''We'll stay right here until you fall asleep,'' Dad promises, lowering himself back into the chair.

Bray nods jerkily and swipes at her eyes. She's too tired to be embarrassed by her neediness and she's way too tired to pretend she doesn't need her parents right now.

''Just lie down and try to relax,'' her mom coos in her ear. ''Can you do that for me?''

She does as she's told, shifting in the bed until she's comfortable, letting her eyelids flutter shut. All the remaining tension drains out of her body when she feels her father's strong, calloused hand slip into her own, his thumb rubbing soft circles on the back of her hand. Mom strokes her hair softly, just like she used to do. With her eyes closed, Bray can almost pretend she's five years old again and not too old to need a little comfort from her mom and dad. (You're never too old to need someone, a voice in the back of her head tells her. It sounds like Connor.) She almost opens her mouth to ask her mom to tell her a story, the same story she's always told; the one about the two brothers who made a home for themselves in a car that was never really just a car and who saved the world when no one else could. That has always been Bray's favourite bedtime story. But maybe, she decides, that wouldn't be the best idea right now. It's 2010. The wounds may be a little too fresh for them.

She's just about to fall into slumber when she suddenly remembers something. Something important; something she has to tell her daddy. She forces open her heavy eyelids with some difficulty and turns her head to him. ''Daddy,'' she mumbles out, barely able to get to the words out through the tiredness choking her. ''Listen to me,'' she begs. ''Listen. Do you...Do you remember what I said? About faith?''

''Yeah, sugar. I remember.''

''Hold onto that,'' she orders him. ''Don't ever forget. Don't ever forget to have faith. And hope. Have lots of hope.'' She flicks her gaze to her mother. ''Both of you. It's so...It's so important. You have to have hope. In yourselves. In me. In _Sam_.''

Mom tenses and Dad's grip on her hand tightens. ''Sam?'' Dad's voice is so low she can barely hear it. ''What about Sam? Lila Bray, what about Sam? What do you know?''

''I'll tell you in the morning,'' she lies, struggling to keep her eyes open, words coming out half slurred.

''Can he be saved?'' Dad demands. ''Lila Bray, please. You have to tell us if there's something... If we can bring him back.''

''You have to promise me,'' she insists. ''Promise me that you will keep your faith and your hope 'cause...'cause you're gonna need it. And promise me you'll remember this. Promise me. Please promise me.''

''All right,'' Dad nods quickly. ''We promise. We promise, right, Ruby?''

Mom nods. ''Whatever you need, baby.''

''Just...'' Dad swallows. ''Can you tell us... Can he be saved?''

But Bray only shakes her head, eyes falling closed like shutters. ''Faith,'' she repeats in a breathless murmur. ''Just have faith. We all...We all end up...exactly where we're supposed to be.'' And then she is struck by the sudden, unmistakable feeling that she is _falling._

There's nothing to hang on to.

.

.

.

Her eyes snap open and a gasp bubbles up in her throat, but she swallows it down. Her head is killing her and the world is spinning and lurching unpleasantly, making nausea roll in her stomach. She's lying on a bed. That much she knows. She's lying on a bed in an odd position; on her stomach with one leg bent and one hand dangling over the edge, body tangled in the sheets. She has a sinking suspicion that there is probably drool on her pillow. Ugh. She feels, to be blunt, hungover. Where the hell is she? This certainly doesn't feel like a hospital bed. Did Mom and Dad break her out or something because that would be...

No, actually, that sounds like them.

Slowly, careful not to agitate her pounding head, she raises her eyes, squints against the glow of the too bright sunlight and when her eyes adjust to light, she finds herself staring into cat-like eyes. A furry paw swats at her and a deafening, startled scream erupts from deep in her throat, which does not help her headache at all.

''Hey!'' A deep voice shouts, a hand darting into her line of vision to shove the animal away from her. ''Snoop, get your ass outta here,'' the voice hisses. ''You're such a little attention whore.'' The tiny black kitten, Snoopy, that Alex fucking dotes on, leaps off the bed with an unhappy and slightly offended sounding meow. Bray will never admit this in a million years, but she kind of feels bad. She may say she vehemently dislikes all animals (stemming from an incident with one of her uncle's dogs that involved leg humping) but ever since Alex came home with the little furball - proudly declaring upon entering the apartment with the kitten, ''this is my fluffy buddy. We're pals. If you ask me to choose between her and you, I'll choose her. Just FYI. Congratulations, it's a girl'' - she has taken a liking to the stupid fluffer.

And whoa. _Whoa. _Wait a minute. If Snoopy's here that means -

''And you,'' Alex points a finger at her. ''Roll the fuck over. You have a stab wound. You don't lie on your stomach when you have a stab wound. You're gonna pop your stitches.''

Bray rolls over and pushes herself up, eyes darting around the room. This is not a hospital. This isn't even 2010. This is home. She's sitting in her own bed in the middle of her and Alex's miniscule apartment...and she still has a stab wound. That part sucks. She glances at the alarm clock on the bedside table, the blaring red screaming the time at her. _6:55 pm._ Dude, time travel knocks you out better than NyQuil. Before she even has a chance to question the _realness _of this, Alex is shoving his phone at her and she's staring down at the date.

_October 31st, 2026._

Her wide eyes go up to Alex, who's standing in front of her without a shirt on, hair still dripping wet from the shower. (Oh, if it were any other day...) ''We're...We're back?''

''Looks that way.'' He turns and disappears back into the bathroom as she tries to process it all, reappearing seconds later to toss her a bottle of painkillers. Despite her normally high fear of drugs of any kind, Bray shakes out a bit more than the recommended dosage and swallows them dry because fucking _ow_, okay?

''And there's absolutely zero chance that was a dream?'' She rasps out, watching as he tugs a shirt over his head.

''If it was, we would have had the same dream,'' he points out, ''which is impossible. ...Because we do not share a brain.'' He pauses, adding on a mumble of, ''Contrary to what your brother thinks.''

''Nope. Not a dream. Just time travel.''

At the sound of the vaguely familiar voice, Bray reacts pretty much exactly like you'd think a Winchester would. By pulling out her emergency firearm and pointing it at the intruder.

''Won't work on me,'' he remarks flippantly. ''I'm already dead.''

Alex, however, seems to be more preoccupied with the existence of the gun rather than who it's pointed at. ''Christ, Lila! You had that in our _bed? _There is no part of that shit that can be considered safe. Or sane.''

Bray reluctantly lowers the gun, but doesn't put it down. Hey, when a dead guy shows up in your home, you're allowed to be a little wary. She narrows her eyes and edges closer to the newcomer. ''...John?'' Her voice is cautious and incredulous as she looks her dead grandfather up and down.

''Hey now.'' He waggles a finger at her. ''That's _Grandpa _John to you, little girl.''

''What...What are you...?''

''I'm just here to give you a gold star,'' he drawls smoothly. ''You two fixed everything. World's as right as rain again. Your parents' memories have been wiped clean. As far as they know, Dean went up against a rakshasa and killed it all by himself. They don't remember anything about you being there. Trust me, it's for the best.'' He gives Bray an approving nod, soft smile dancing on his features. ''You did real good, bug.''

She blushes. ''Well...I mean, Alex is the one who killed the rakshasa. I just stood there and let it stick me with my own knife.''

''Yes, well,'' John clears his throat and offers Alex a smile. ''You certainly know how to pick 'em, don't you, Bray? How is the ole' battle wound anyway?''

''Oh, it's...'' She frowns and looks down at her stomach. ''...It'll heal. It's not even that bad.''

Alex rolls his eyes and grumbles under his breath about stubborn self-sacrificial Winchesters.

John laughs a hearty laugh and sweeps effortlessly across the room to bring his hand to Bray's cheek. ''We all have scars,'' he informs her simply. ''You were bound to get one sooner or later.'' Clearing his throat, he steps back from her, suddenly all professional and serious-like. ''I'm here to officially thank you on behalf of Fate herself.'' He pauses and can't seem to help himself from one little dig. ''...Whiny little bitch.'' For that, he receives a shove and he throws a scowl over his shoulder at the empty air behind him. ''I'm supposed to tell you that she is now in debt to you. If either of you ever need anything, she owes you. Don't forget that. Whatever you ask her to do, she'll do. It's in her code of honor.'' He looks over his shoulder one more time and then smiles tightly. Gently, he cups his granddaughter's cheek and leans in to kiss her forehead. ''Trust me,'' he whispers in her ear. ''Use that one favor wisely. No foolishness, little girl.''

She nods. ''O-Okay.''

He pulls back and looks at them for one more moment as if he's engraining them into his memory and then his eyes move over their shoulders and his lips twist up into a smirk. ''Oh, by the way,'' he says. ''You two should probably look at the time. Don't want to be late for the party, do you?''

Instinctively, both Bray and Alex turn to look at the clock. He's gone when they turn back.

.

.

.

_7:10 pm, Dean and Ruby's House_

Halloween is a big deal for the Winchester family. There's something almost homey about Halloween. For the past ten years or so, there has been an annual Winchester Halloween party at Mom and Dad's house. It's a tradition. Uncle Sam and Aunt Sarah tried to host the party a few times, but their house is a zoo so those years have become what are referred to as The Dark Years. Over the years, the party has grown with the family, eventually ending up an event that nearly the entire neighborhood attended because the Winchester kids had friends and their friends had parents and...yeah, the party has become somewhat well known in town.

The Winchesters themselves have become somewhat well known. Respected, even. (See this? This is what Mom and Dad were going for when they tried on normal all those years ago.) This year's party isn't going to stop just because Bray and Alex time traveled and she now has a stab wound. If she's not there to help her mother with the hosting, she will get the silent treatment for the entire month of November.

(She'll act like it's a hassle, but she really does love it. She loves the Halloween parties that Mom and Dad throw, she loves the Christmas parties at Grandpa Bobby and Jodie's place, and she loves the Easter egg hunts at Uncle Sam and Aunt Sarah's. The only thing about the Halloween parties is that she always ends up feeling so bad for poor Uncle Sammy. ...Aunt Sarah is a couple's costume person and Dad is a big bully.)

Reluctantly, she lets Alex drive the Impala over to Mom and Dad's and as soon as he's helping her out of the car, careful not to aggravate her stitches, a short, petite brunette pops up behind them with a giggly cry of, ''Boo!''

There are no words. ''Wow,'' Alex whistles after a moment has gone by. ''You sure don't leave anything to the imagination, do you, Mais?''

Bray looks at her friend's two sizes two small striped mini dress and her plastic claw. ''What are you even supposed to be?''

Maisie Franklin, Bray's best friend since kindergarten, beams and does a little twirl, waving her plastic claw around animatedly. ''I'm a sexy Freddy Krueger,'' she declares excitedly.

''Is that even a thing?''

''Shut up. Casey's going to be here tonight and I want to make a good impression.''

Alex presses his lips together. ''Casey?''

''Casey's a guy,'' Maisie interjects quickly.

''Right.''

Maisie deflates a little as her critical eyes rake over them and their costume-less selves. ''And I thought you guys were going as Bonnie and Clyde! What happened?'' She takes a step back and eyes Bray's old oversized Metallica t-shirt with the pizza stain on it and the hole in it that used to belong to her father (and then her mother). Maisie's full on wrinkled nose frowning by the time she gets to her friend's ripped, grass stained jeans and then back up to the curtain of slightly messy blond hair. (What? She was in a hurry, okay?) ''But I see you've gone in a different direction and are now going as a homeless person and...'' She looks at Alex, tilting her head to the side in confusion. ''...Angel?'' She shakes her head at them sadly, clicking her tongue in disappointment. ''Tsk, tsk, you two. It's like you weren't even trying. I thought you wanted to beat out Sam and Sarah in the costume contest. Now you're not even going to rank third! And I freaking spent two weeks making those costumes for you, FYI!''

With a huff, she turns and flounces up the walkway, bursting through the front door with a loud cheer of, ''Happy Halloween, Winchester family!''

Bray looks around the neighborhood at the trick or treaters filtering through the streets, then she looks at Alex, and then she remembers that she is in dire need of some reassurance from someone who is not her dead grandfather. She races forwards and all but tumbles through the doorway. Partygoers won't be arriving until at least seven thirty so right now it's just family and it's perfectly safe to have a minor breakdown out of pure relief. On the couch, Batman and what looks to be the victim of a lawnmower accident are playing a video game. Meanwhile, a doctor is standing by the refreshment table playing with his stethoscope while a 1920's flapper girl converses with Sexy Freddy Krueger.

Bray's breath catches and she makes a beeline for the flapper girl, nearly knocking her over in a fierce bear hug. ''Mom!''

''Oh,'' Mom squeaks. ''Uh...Hi, Bray. It's...nice to see you too?''

''Ruby,'' the doctor pipes up, letting out a heavy breath. ''This is made of plastic.''

Forgetting for a moment about her daughter's over enthusiastic greeting, Ruby heaves a sigh and throws a look over her shoulder. ''Yes, honey. We've been over this.''

''But - ''

He's cut off when Bray lunges at him, wrapping her arms around him tight with a squeal of, ''Uncle Cas!''

Startled greatly by the show of affection, Castiel awkwardly pats her on the back. ''Bray,'' he begins in that slow, careful way of his. ''Are you - ''

''Connor!'' Bray climbs onto the couch like some sort of monkey and tackles her brother, clutching at him tighter than both Mom and Uncle Cas combined.

Underneath her, Connor struggles to get his Batman mask off, swatting at her unsuccessfully. ''God, get off! What the hell's wrong with you!''

She doesn't answer him, crawling over him to envelop her eldest cousin in a stifling embrace. ''Bray,'' Nick whines. ''You're gonna ruin my costume. Also, I'm uncomfortable.''

While everyone else is staring at her like she's some sort of drunk lunatic crazy person, Maisie looks quite affronted. ''Hey, how come I - oof.'' She stumbles back when Bray grabs her in a tight hug, nearly spilling her drink. ''Um...okay...'' She pats her friend on the back with her Krueger claw. ''Okay, it's weird.''

''Hey, Ruby,'' a voice drifts down the stairs.

Bray abruptly draws away from Maisie and whirls around to the staircase, eyes widening and burning with overwhelming relief. Her hand grazes her stomach where the knife went in. Oh yeah. Yeah. Totally worth it. She thinks she might hear Alex mutter out an, ''oh, boy'' under his breath.

''Do we have any - '' The second he gets to the bottom of the stairs, she runs forwards and freaking catapults herself into her father's arms, jumping up and wrapping her legs around his waist. he staggers and has to steady himself against the banister, but quickly wraps his arm around her when she buries her face in the crook of his neck.

''God, Lila, stitches!'' Alex bursts out in exasperation. ''Fucking watch your _stitches!_''

''Stitches?'' Mom echoes. ''What stitches?''

Bray tunes out everybody else and keeps her arms wound tightly around her dad, doing her very best not to sob in relief. To his credit, Dad lets her have her moment, tangling one hand in her hair. But only a moment. Then he's done. ''For fuck's sake, sugar,'' he bites out dryly. ''I'm fucking forty seven years old and I have a bad back. What the hell are you trying to do? Kill me?''

She jumps down with a nervous laugh. ''Sorry.'' She blinks and presses one hand to her stomach just to make sure her stitches are still in place. ''I'm just really happy to see you.'' She looks around at her family, not even caring that they're all staring at her like she needs to be medicated. ''All of you. I, uh, I had a really weird dream last night and it kind of freaked me out. And the stitches,'' she smiles weakly, ''they're from Snoopy. See, I was on the bed and there was this ball of yarn and it's a whole big thing.'' She waves her hand dismissively and then attempts to smooth down her homeless person hair. ''Yeah. But I'm totally fine now and, um, happy Halloween so...'' She nods. ''That's it. I'm done. Stop - Can you all stop staring at me?''

Her father - because he knows when she doesn't want to elaborate on something and thank God for that - expertly changes the subject and diverts the attention to something else. In this case, it's her ''costume''. His lip curls back in disgust and he looks in between her and Alex with a judgy look in his eyes. ''Thought you two were goin' as Bonnie and Clyde?'' He smirks at her, arms folded over his chest. ''You look like your mother did for like a week after they cancelled Mythbusters.''

A piece of candy corn bounces off his head and falls to the ground with a clack. ''Shut your piehole, Dean,'' she snaps. ''That show was awesome. Way better than Dr. Sexy.''

''Now that was just uncalled for.''

''I'm a...a homeless person,'' Bray responds lamely.

''Uh-huh. And you?'' He looks at Alex expectantly. ''Let me guess. James Dean?''

Alex's lips twitch. He shrugs. ''Sure, why not? Better than Angel.''

''And anyway,'' Bray puts her hand on her hip. ''What are you supposed to be?''

He grins at her and jumps back up onto the bottom step so that he's towering over them more so than usual. ''I'm Sam.''

Mom sidles up to them, pulls Dad off the step and reaches up to put a cowboy hat on his head, laying her hand flat against his chest as he wraps an arm around her waist. Her wedding ring glints in the light. Bray swallows down a happy sigh. ''He's a cowboy,'' Mom says primly. ''I tried to get him to dress up as a 1920's gangster so we would match, but he wanted to be a cowboy so he could say - ''

''Yippie kay yay, motherfucker.''

Mom shakes her head and pretends to be way past the point of exasperation, even as her eyes twinkle. ''All right, but you cannot say that when Sam and Sarah get here with the kids. Paige will repeat it. Understood, Cowboy?''

''Deal.'' And then they seal the deal with a high five, which they have been doing for as long as Bray can remember. She's not sure she understands the meaning behind that gesture, but she'll admit it's oddly comforting to see.

''Great. Now do something about Batman and his dead sidekick over there.'' Mom jerks her thumb towards Connor and Nick. ''Because if they don't stop playing that stupid video game, I'm going to have to throw punch on them and I don't want to waste the punch.''

''On it.'' Dad strides past Bray and Alex, stopping only to throw a slightly horrified look at Maisie, which is accompanied by a sharp, ''Franklin, you better get your ass upstairs and put some clothes on.''

Mom steps in between Alex and Bray and for a second, Bray swears she knows. ''By the way, you two,'' she says with a smirk, ''Sam and Sarah should be here with the kids and you're on trick or treating duty again.''

Alex nods briskly. ''Got it.''

Once she's gone, Bray lets out a breath and turns to Alex. At the risk of getting called out for PDA, she closes the space between them and wraps her arms around his neck, standing on her tip toes to brush her nose against his. ''Back to normal then?''

He glares at her. ''I can't believe you blamed your injury on my cat.''

She scoffs and bark of laughter escapes her lips against her will. ''That's what you're taking away from this?''

''Absolutely.''

She grins and kisses him hard on the lips. ''You're so adorable sometimes.''

The door opens again and a tiny piece of candy corn comes running inside. ''No,'' Alex corrects her, pointing at the candy corn. ''That's adorable.''

Paige comes to a skidding halt at their feet. ''Alex! Look at me! I'm so cute!''

He laughs and swoops her up into his arms. ''You certainly are.''

The parade of snot machines continues as the rest of the cousins file in the doorway. Johnny comes in, dressed as Indiana Jones, Eli's a blue crayon, Carrie is - again - protesting the whole Halloween shebang by wearing a sandwich board that reads _this is not a costume_ and...oh, Aunt Sarah. Aunt Sarah is a holiday fanatic. She goes all out for Halloween, all out for Thanksgiving, all out for Christmas. Valentine's Day, St. Patrick's Day, Easter. The woman's a holiday junkie. Every year without fail, she somehow manages to coerce Sam to dress up with her. Some of the most memorable couples have been Beauty and the Beast, bacon and eggs, a grave and the zombie, and a corpse bride and groom. Bray's personal favourite was when Sarah was pregnant with Paige and they went as a bun in the oven and the baker. That was priceless. But this could definitely be one of the most embarrassing.

The moment Sarah walks (more like waddles) into the house with a cheerful greeting, Uncle Cas shakes his head and says, for about the five billionth time in however many years he's been participating in Halloween activities, ''This holiday is preposterous. Carrie, I'm on your team.''

In response to Sarah's ridiculous costume, Connor's eyes positively glint with a million snarky comments and Dad grabs him and pulls him back, covering his mouth.

''Oh, god,'' Nick groans, burying his decaying face into his hands. ''_Mooom. _What are you _doing_ to me?''

''Hey, spoon,'' Mom greets, taking the plate of caramel popcorn balls from Sarah's arms. ''Where's your fork?''

''In the car,'' Aunt Sarah sighs. ''He's refusing to come inside. As usual. Big sissy.''

Abruptly, she turns to Bray. ''Okay, so we already took the kids around our block, but they still want to - ''

''Whoa, whoa, whoa...'' Dad holds his hands up. ''Hang on there, partner. Are you telling me that my brother is sitting in the car dressed as a fork?''

Sarah doesn't appear to find anything strange about this. ''Yeah.''

Dad looks at Sarah, looks at Bray, looks at Ruby, and then bolts out the door with Connor racing after him. Their loud cackles drift into the house, turning Bray's lips up into a huge grin. ''Oh my god! Sammy! Sammy, dude! Forking hell, look at you! This is the best forking moment in my life!''

''Sarah!'' Sam calls out. ''I'm divorcing you.''

''Yeah, whatever, babe! No one else is gonna take you!''

Bray shakes her head with a laugh and looks around the room at her family. From across the room, she catches Alex's eye.

Yep.

Back to normal then.

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**2010**

_3:00 am, Dean and Ruby's House_

Dean absently plays with the edge of the comforter and huffs out an exhausted sigh. It's three in the morning on Halloween (technically November 1st) and he can't sleep. He can't even explain it, really. Sure, sleep never comes easily to him but this is different. He glances over at Ruby, rolling over onto his side and lifting himself up onto his elbow to study her. She's fast asleep, breathing evenly with her hair falling in her face. He wrangles up a smile and rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling restlessly.

Nope. Nu-uh. This isn't going to work. Swallowing a sigh, he carefully slides out of bed and makes his way over to the window, peering out around the curtains. The neighborhood is peaceful and silent, the odd jack-o'-lantern still glowing here and there. All in all, it hasn't been an entirely bad Halloween. Sure, they got sidetracked by that little rakshasa problem, but his little girl still had a good time and that's really all that matters. So why does he feel like he's forgetting something?

Dean steps away from the window and lets the curtain fall back. Rubbing at his tired eyes, he casts one more careful look at Ruby's sleeping form and then pads quietly out of the room, letting the door click shut behind him. With a yawn, he starts to traipse towards the staircase, only to stop and change his direction at the last minute, heading for his daughter's room instead. The door opens with a soft click and he enters the darkened room, avoiding the creaky floorboards with ease.

Much to his surprise, Bray is wide awake in her little pink bed, sitting up as she plays with her teddy bears. ''Hey, sugar,'' he greets her with a big smile, albeit a tired one.

She shoots him a gummy smile and holds her arms out for him to pick her up. ''Hi, Daddy.''

''What're you doin' up, Lila Bray?'' He murmurs, scooping her up into his arms. She doesn't answer, burrowing his face in his chest. ''Okay then,'' he tells her, running his hand up and down her back. ''Let's go see if there's any Halloween specials on TV,'' he suggests. ''Maybe _It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown _will be on.'' She looks up at him when he gets to the door, peering up at him with those big doe eyes of hers. He stops in his tracks. He's not sure why...He can't explain it...

But for some reason the words _faith, hope _and _remember_ somehow seem more important than they've ever been.

Huh.

Weird.

He shrugs it off and drops a kiss to the top of his daughter's head.

**the end**

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><p><strong>AN: And there we have it. The end of my big Halloween 2011 story. I hope you all enjoyed it, because I know I sure did.<strong>

**Info dump time: Yes, all of those costumes are real things. Even the Sexy Freddy Krueger and the Fork and Spoon. This story was purposefully designed to leave some things up in the air. Like how was Cas in the future considering his ''death'' in season seven? And in part two Bray mentioned that she and her brother were built for hunting, but Connor especially was made for it. What's that about? How old are Sam's kids? Actually, I can answer that one. The ages of the next generation in this story are are followed: Bray and Maisie are 18, Alex recently turned 19, Nick (Sam's oldest) is 14, Connor is 13, Carrie is 12, Johnny's 10, Eli's 7, and Paige is 3. Out of all of them, Paige, Bray, Alex and Maisie's ages are probably the only ones set in stone, so if the other kids ages change in any other Lila Bray 'verse future stories, don't be surprised.**

**I had such a great time with this story and I hope you all like it as much as I do. Thank you all for reading!**

**Happy Halloween!**

**PS: _Rabbit Hole: The Soundtrack_ is coming tomorrow. Or possibly the next day, depending on how busy tomorrow is. The day after Halloween is usually pretty hectic, filled with sugar comas, cleaning, and trying to get that stubborn makeup off after passing out still in costume. It's tradition.**


	4. Rabbit Hole: Goodie Bag

_AN: All right then. I promised you guys a soundtrack and here it is. ...Along with a few other treats. Sorry it's so late!_

**Disclaimer: **I own none of the songs and none of the characters you recognize.

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><p>.<p>

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**Rabbit Hole: Goodie Bag**

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_Treat Number One:_

_Three ''Outtakes'' from Rabbit Hole (aka three missing and/or deleted scenes)_

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**Outtake #1**

_(At the end of the night with her memories of future!Bray wiped clean, Ruby laments on the disappointing way she spent Halloween and an old friend drops by to make sure she's all right.)_

_1:05 am, Dean and Ruby's House_

Ruby is not a fan of many holidays, but she loves Halloween. Sure, these days it's mostly seen as campy fun; a night filled with sugar comas, cheesy horror movies and way too loud decorations, but back in the day it was a legitimately badass celebration. Call it what you want - Halloween, Samhain, All Hallow's Eve, Day of the Dead - but it is rooted in pure power and if there's anything Ruby likes more than overly gory movie massacres and candy corn, it is _power._ She was a witch in her human life, all right? A real, honest to God_ witch_. And whether she likes it or not, she's still got that _witchiness _in her and on Halloween, she can feel that power in the air, in her veins. It's like a runner's high. It lifts her up.

So, yes. She likes Halloween.

But this Halloween...

Well, she's going to go ahead and write this year off as a failure. Bray had a perfectly fine time and that's great, it really is, but Ruby didn't get to spend nearly enough time with her little Alice in Wonderland and she was drugged (_drugged_, people) by a sick and twisted rakshasa and her dress is _ruined._ So you'll excuse her if she's not really basking in the glow of a successful spooktacular.

With a heavy and tired sigh, she pads barefooted into the darkened bedroom, kicking the door shut behind her. She tosses her heels by the foot of the bed carelessly and makes her way into the bathroom, clicking on the light. An instant grimace crosses her lips at the state of her clothes and the dried, congealed blood on her forehead. She groans and turns to snatch a washcloth off the towel rack. It's when she's holding it under the warm spray that she hears it. It's a barely a noise, not even a sound, like an almost ruffle, a half creak. She whirls around.

There's no one there.

Still keyed up and on edge from the night's unfortunate events, she slinks forwards to poke her head into the bedroom. ''Dean?'' Nope. He's not there. Ruby takes in a deep breath and decides it's nothing. Just her frayed nerves. Of course as soon as she turns around, she bumps straight into a familiar chest and staggers backwards, emitting a small gasp.

Castiel doesn't miss a beat. ''You're hurt.''

She gapes at him. Once the shock wears off, the anger sets in. Six months. It's been nearly six months since she's seen him. Since he left both her and Dean behind to go be Heaven's newest Sheriff. Six months without so much as an _I'm okay. How are you? Still utterly fucked? Sorry about that. Can I offer you a hug? _and tonight is the night he chooses to show his face? Her eyes flash and she reacts on instinct. By slapping him across the face. There's probably a better way to handle these sorts of things but eh, whatever.

''And quite angry from what I can tell,'' he adds on carefully.

Deciding she's not quite done with the anger part yet, she shoves at his chest roughly. ''Where the hell have you been?''

''Heaven,'' he says simply. ''You know that.'' Completely oblivious to the fact that his vague answer does not appease her in the slightest, he continues. ''I heard about your trouble tonight. I wanted to see you. I was...'' He pauses, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, dropping his gaze.

She softens, blowing out a breath. ''Worried?''

He looks up to meet her eyes. ''Yes. I was worried.'' He eyes the cut on her forehead. ''Ruby, please let me heal you.''

She draws away from him, taking a step back when he takes a step forwards. ''It's not that bad,'' she says. ''I don't need you.''

Perhaps it's her imagination, but he actually looks hurt by that. Extremely so. She swallows and turns her back on him so she doesn't have to look into his big puppy dog eyes that are so much worse than Sam's. ''Very well,'' he eventually says, stepping past her. He takes the washcloth from her hand and holds it under the warm water, keeping his eyes on anything but her.

_Come on, _the reasonable part of her brain is telling her. _Don't you miss your best friend? Do you really want to sit in stony silence with him for the five minutes that he's allowing himself to see you?_

_He left you,_ the stubborn and hurt part reminds her. _He left you behind, he left Bray behind, he left Dean behind. And he never even looked back. Don't forget that._

Ignoring her futile and half hearted resisting, he brings the warm washcloth to her forehead to wipe away the dried blood gently. ''You're right,'' he says softly, so quiet she can barely hear him. ''It's not that bad.'' She's not completely convinced that he's talking about the cut on her head.

She doesn't respond for the longest time, but when she does, she doesn't address any of the issues between them or the hurt he caused her. Instead, she catches his hand, takes the cloth from his grasp and puts it on the counter. ''I can take it from here,'' she says quietly. ''You should go. Dean will flip if he sees you and then he'll get drunk and brood and he's been doing so good lately, so just...'' She closes her eyes briefly, trying to keep her breathing even. When she opens her eyes, she pastes a crooked smile on her face and reaches up to fix his tie because that's their thing. That's what they do. She fixes his tie. It's like their version of the patented _bitch_ and _jerk_ display that Dean and Sam put on. (..._Used_ to put on.) When she's done, she smoothes down his shirt, brushes off his trench coat, plucks off a piece of lint and fixes his collar.

It's what she does.

''You need to go,'' she tells him firmly. ''_Now_.''

He pinches his lips together, but doesn't verbally protest. ''Ruby,'' he says after a beat. ''I know this may not mean much to you, but I _am _sorry for leaving.''

She scoffs and turns away, pulling open the drawer to search for a band aid. ''You're right,'' she murmurs. ''It doesn't mean much.''

''I do find myself missing you. ...If that means anything.''

Her busy hands still and she spins around to face him.

He's already gone.

**end of outtake #1**

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**Outtake #2**

_(Dean takes little Bray trick or treating. They have a run in with the Crowell family.)_

_5:49 pm, Grimm Street/Dean and Ruby's Neighborhood (and how ironic is it that they live on Grimm street? Goddamn, Dean hates that fucking street name)_

''You're the world's tiniest mastermind, you know that?''

In response to that, Bray grins up at her father, eyes gleaming triumphantly. They've barely been trick or treating for ten minutes and she's already got way too much candy for such a tiny little girl. And it's all because of her method of getting treats, which is basically a gummy and adorable smile and a little squeak of, ''Candy! I want candy!'' Instead of finding that a little too strong, people seem to find it the cutest thing they have ever seen, cooing over and heaping handfuls of candy into her apparently too small pumpkin bucket. Sometimes, she's too cute for her own good. It's as simple as that.

Toddling down the pathway of the Henderson's house, Bray squeezes her father's hand and tries not to trip on her costume, her focus on the candy in her bucket. She's practically drooling right now, eyes as wide as saucers. This is what she gets from her father. Total and complete adoration of every food source that is bad for you. As soon as they get to the sidewalk, she digs her heels into the ground and lets go of his hand. ''Wait!''

Dean stops in his tracks and looks down at her, instinctively checking her over for injuries or a costume malfunction. She shoves her hand into her treasure, lit up like a Christmas tree. He frowns curiously. ''Whatcha doin' there, sugar?'' Distractedly, she mumbles out that she's looking for the good candy. At least he thinks that's what she says. He chuckles, shakes his head and lets her. While she is busy digging around for the _good candy_, whatever that may be, he looks around the neighborhood at the brightly colored costumes and elaborate decorations.

His eyes land on the crowd of kids at the next house, their loud cries of ''trick or treat'' resounding through the air. His smile dims when he notices something strange about that group of children. That's not one group of children, that's just a tangle of children who ended up waiting on the doorstep together because old Mr. Sal takes forever to open the door. Three of the older ones race off to the next house, their parents slowly trailing after them as they talk amongst each other. One goes thundering towards her dad, shoving her foil halo at him with barely concealed frustration, clearly annoyed for the last time by the accessory. Two others, little ones, trail down the driveway to their awaiting parents. But the last two, a miniscule dragon and a Minnie Mouse wannabe don't have anyone to go to. Minnie helps her dragon companion down the steps and has to stop at the end of the walkway, bending down to help him with his costume. He recognizes those two trick or treaters.

He looks around the street in search of their parents. Okay, so let's just give them the benefit of the doubt for a minute. Maybe they're just - Nope. Mouse girl and dragon boy are all alone. Dean huffs out a frustrated breath. ''Son of a bitch.'' With barely contained anger, he scoops up his daughter despite her protests that she's ''still busy, Daddy'' and strides over to the two young children who should not be alone, coming to a halt in front of them. He tries to be as cheerful as possible, offering them both a wide smile and a greeting of, ''Hey, guys. You two look great.''

Minnie Mouse looks up at him and beams. ''Oh, hi, Mr. Winchester! Thank you! I picked out Alex's costume all by myself.''

He doesn't sigh, no matter how much he wants to. ''That's great, Aubrey.'' He glances down at his daughter and looks in between her and Alex, who are giving each other extremely distrustful looks like they're two cats about to claw at each other. Yes, Alex and Bray have their issues. Hair pulling, toy stealing issues. Hesitantly, he crouches down in front of Aubrey, still doing his best to smile for her. Here's the thing: Aubrey and Alex Crowell may have insufferable parents, Alex may be a hair pulling troublemaker and Aubrey may be way too smart for a ten year old and a little on the obnoxious side, but Dean still has sympathy for them. They're just kids. They don't deserve to be ruined for life just because their parents are totally fucked up. ''Sweetheart,'' he says softly, absently pulling her pink puffy jacket tighter around her to keep her warm. ''Where are your parents?''

''Daddy's working,'' she says matter-of-factly. ''Halloween is always very, very busy for him.''

''And your mom?''

The little girl's smile fades and she looks at her brother. ''...She wanted to stay home and hand out all the candy we bought.'' She smiles again, undoubtedly fake this time. ''We bought lots of candy this year.''

Ah, yes. And that would be code. Dean knows that code.

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When Robyn Crowell opens the door, she's got a glass of wine in her hand and her face is, as usual, pinched in distaste. Well, now. That ever present _I'm better than you _expression is just plastered permanently on her face, isn't it? When she spots Dean Winchester standing on her doorstep with her son on his hip and two little girls beside him (one of them being her sheepish looking daughter), her face sours, if possible, even more. ''_What_,'' she snarls out, ''do you think you're doing?''

''I have a question for you.''

''No.''

He ignores her. ''Why are your kids trick or treating alone?''

''They're old enough.''

''They are _ten _and _two_, Robyn. Alex can barely walk in his costume and Aubrey's ears keep falling in her face, but she can't fix them because she's got her candy in one hand and Alex's hand in the other.''

''Well,'' Robyn shrugs, unconcerned, and takes a sip of her wine. ''Adam's at work. Halloween's the busiest night of the year for emergency responders.''

He stares at her expectantly. ''You're not.''

She doesn't get the hint. ''It's cold out.''

He clenches his teeth. There is something seriously wrong with this woman. It's times like these when he understands perfectly why Ruby has declared war with her. Slowly, he puts Alex down on the porch and turns around to face the kids. ''Hey, Aubrey, why don't you and the kids head over to the Larsen's house next door, okay?''

''Oh, but Alex and I already went there,'' Aubrey points out, still _smiling._

''Well, go there again. I think you guys are cute enough to get seconds. Just stay where I can see you, okay?''

Aubrey looks in between Dean and her mother for a moment too long and for a second, she just looks like an incredibly sad ten year old girl who's trying to be a mom to her little brother because her parents suck. Yeah, it's possible that might hit a little too close to home for Dean. Aubrey nods eventually, avoiding her mother's piercing, withering glare. She takes both Bray and Alex by the hand to help them down the steps and only looks back once.

Dean keeps a cheerful smile on his face until he sees them walking up the driveway of the Larsen's. The smile drops off his lips as he turns back to Robyn. ''What are you doing, Robyn?''

''They were fine,'' she snaps out spitefully. ''They were both fine until you came along and upset them!''

''They were not fi...Aubrey can't...You can't keep making her do all of this by herself!''

Her eyes flash and she steps over the threshold to poke him on the chest. ''I am not _making_ her do anything, Dean.'' She narrows her eyes in suspicion and leans in closer to him. ''Your wife put you up to this, didn't she?''

''No.'' He rubs his temples. ''All right, look...'' He sighs and steps away from her. This needs to end before he gets in way too deep and winds up saying something he'll regret, which is definitely a huge possibility with this desperate housewife. Robyn Crowell has a way of sucking you into this whirlpool of deep and dark despair that you can't claw your way out of and he doesn't feel like being tangled in her web right now. ''This is your business, Mrs. Crowell,'' he tells her, voice tight with restrained anger. ''You're their mother and I'm sure you're doing _the best you possibly can_.'' He gives her a pointed look. ''But if you don't mind, I'm going to take them trick or treating, just in case they need anything. I'll have them back home in half an hour. Is that okay with you?''

For a second, he actually thinks she might soften. Maybe even thank him. There's a look in her eyes that looks like its three seconds away from morphing into full on regret. Maybe, he thinks, there is a soul somewhere underneath the designer clothes and wine soaked skin. But then her lips twist into an ugly sneer and she shakes dark hair into her face. ''Fine,'' she says through her teeth. ''Whatever.'' Her fingers tighten around the wine glass in her hands. ''But,'' she leans closer to grasp his shirt. ''If your little daughter touches one hair on my son's head, you can tell your wife to forget about getting Bray into Meadowbrook Preschool, you got me? I know people.'' And then she steps back into her house, scowls, and slams the door in his face.

Dean lets out a breath and shakes his head. That is one irreversibly fucked up woman. (Oh, well, then you'd think they would get along better.) Spinning on his heel, he jogs down the steps and starts down the pathway only to stop in his tracks when he feels eyes on him. He turns and looks towards the window, where Robyn is glaring out at him like she's trying to throw enough hatred in his direction to make him trip and fall on his face. He rolls his eyes and flicks a look up at the sky. ''I dare you to smite her.''

As he's walking down the path, sprinting to catch up with the kids, he doesn't see the wine glass in her hands spontaneously shatter, a shriek erupting from her lips.

**end outtake #2**

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**Outtake #3**

_(2026. The Winchester family Halloween party is in full swing. Shenanigans occur.)_

_8:15 pm, Dean and Ruby's House_

''Do I have to be stuck with the kiddie punch?''

''Yes, because you're not legal.''

''I'm legal in Canada. _OH! _Let's go to _CANADA_!''

This is the conversation Bray overhears taking place between her father and Maisie as she's sprinting down the stairs, after trying to spice up her costume with whatever she could find in her old room. As shocking as this may sound, it's really hard to spice up a ''homeless person'' costume, so she winds up giving up and just messing her hair up to further display her homelessness. She's going to have to agree with Maisie on this one. Bray's not a huge drinker (because she _remembers_ how much her dad used to drink and she _remembers_ the damage it did when she was a little girl), but she could totally use a drink tonight. She is worn out, exhaustion going all the way to her bones, and that handful of painkillers is doing nothing for her because her stomach is _throbbing_ right now.

''Actually,'' she pipes up, sidling up to Maisie. ''In South Dakota, it's legal for an eighteen year old to drink if they're in the presence of their parent or guardian.''

Her father does not look amused by that.

Maisie giggles. ''Oh, gotcha there, Daddy Winchester.''

''You're making that up,'' he says with a frown.

Bray shakes her head. ''No, I'm serious. It's true. Google it.''

''I can do better than that.'' He gives them both a warning look and disappears into the throngs of neighbors in costumes, reappearing moments later steering Carrie and her Halloween protesting sandwich board over to the refreshment table. ''Carrie,'' he puts a hand on her shoulder, leaning down to talk in her ear over the sound of Monster Mash. ''Question for you. It is legal for an eighteen year old to drink in South Dakota?''

Carrie nods. ''Sure,'' she shrugs. ''As long as they're in the presence of either a guardian, parent or spouse who is at least twenty one. Actually the same goes for someone like sixteen or seventeen. They can drink alcohol as long as they're with a guardian, parent or spouse who is at least twenty one and as long as they're not drinking at an establishment that is licensed for alcohol distribution.'' She shakes her head, her eyes doing that weird glinty thing they do when she gets really wrapped up in weird facts that no normal person knows by heart. ''Alcohol laws are actually quite fascinating, you know.''

Weirdest twelve year old ever.

Dad grunts. ''Okay, you were no help at all.'' He nudges her back towards the party. ''Shoo, Tigerflower.''

Carrie shoots him a death glare. ''Tiger_lily._''

''Yeah, that's what I said.''

She sticks her nose up into the air and disappears back into the wall of people.

Dad puts his hands on his hips and turns back to Maisie and Bray. ''She read _Carrie _yesterday and decided that her parents committed a horrible crime by naming her that, so she changed her name to Tigerlily.''

Maisie's jaw falls to the floor. ''...She read _Carrie_ in a day?''

''Actually, she read it in two and half hours,'' Dad says simply. ''She came here for some peace and quiet and wound up spending her afternoon in your - '' he points to Bray '' - old closet with her nose in a book.''

''_In_ the closet?'' Maisie echoes. ''Like..._inside_ of the closet?''

Bray shrugs. ''Sounds about right to me.''

Maisie shakes her head furiously. ''No, this is not the - that is the _weirdest kid in the world_... But no! No, not the point. You,'' she shoves an accusing finger in Dad's face, ''are trying to distract us. You heard the little weirdo genius girl. We are entitled to - ''

''You are not _entitled_ to anything, Franklin,'' he chuckles. He folds his arms over his chest and looks back and forth between them, which is how Bray knows they're about to get a past indiscretion thrown right back in their faces because he's all smug and smirky and that is just what he does when he knows he's going to win. ''Do you girls remember that party you went to when you were sixteen 'cause you were idiots and on some _idiotic_ quest to be popular? You let some Queen Bee chick talk you both into sneaking out and crashing that frat party. You both got - and I'm quoting you here - _super wasted _and what happened when I found out and came to get you, girls? What happened?''

''Um, you called Aunt Jodie and she came and broke up the party and the other girl we went with never spoke to me again,'' Bray says.

''When I showed up, you,'' he looks at Bray, ''you little babbly drunk, were talking the ear off some dude who looked stoned out of his mind. And you,'' he turns to Maisie, ''were doing a striptease. And I'm sorry but I'm not willing to encourage a repeat of that situation at this party. So, here.'' He hands them both a red plastic cup filled with harmless kiddie punch, too sweet and too fruity for anyone over the age of thirteen to enjoy. ''Drink up, girls. 'Cause this is all you're getting until you're twenty one. Deal with it. Besides,'' he pats Maisie's cheek. ''That boy you're crushin' on ain't gonna wanna get with a drunk chick. And if he is the kind of guy who wants to get with a drunk chick then you can do so much better. Also, I will beat him.''

''Whoa,'' Maisie murmurs. ''You have a really good memory.''

''It was only a few years ago,'' he says.

''My dad can't even remember what he had for breakfast!''

''Yeah, well...'' His teeth sink into his lip. It's clear he wants to respond to that so badly with a nasty remark. Instead, he lets a smile curve over his lips and pats them both on the head like they're still small children. ''Okay then! Have fun!''

Bray and Maisie both watch him go with identical dumbfounded expressions on their faces. Eventually, Bray is the first one to snap out of it, turning to her best friend with a serious shake of her head. ''Why did we even go to that party?''

Maisie arches an eyebrow, hand on her hip. ''Because you and Alex were in an off again stage and you wanted to make him jealous.'' Under her breath, she adds, ''We wouldn't have even gotten caught if it weren't for Alex ratting us out to your dad.''

''Well, excuse me for wanting to protect you both from getting date raped.'' Alex comes out of nowhere to stand next to Bray, shrugging back into his discarded jacket. ''It was a frat party, Maisie, and you were both wasted sixteen year old girls. You don't think things could have taken a dark turn?''

''Unlike you,'' Maisie tells him, ''I don't always choose to see the worst in people.''

He shrugs. ''Your prerogative.''

Bray sips at the punch experimentally and instantly makes a face. ''Oh my god, that's disgusting. It tastes like pure sugar. I'll bet you my brother made this.'' She moves to put her cup back down on the table, but Alex catches her hand, switching her cup for his. She stares at him questioningly and then sniffs at the drink. ''Whoa,'' she recoils. ''That's grown up punch. How'd you get your hands on this?''

He shrugs again. ''I have my ways.''

''Oh, come on. Don't do the mysterious thing,'' Maisie gripes. ''It lost its charm years ago. Where'd you get it?''

He smirks. ''Ruby gave it to me. Said as long I was surrounded by adults I could have one.''

''Aha!'' Maisie's eyes light up. ''See?'' She spins on her heel dramatically, stomping off into the distance with a wild cry of, ''Ruby! Dean's being unfair! He won't let me have a drink even though it's legal in South Dakota for someone eighteen years of age to drink responsibly as long as there's a parent and or guardian over the age of twenty one around!''

Bray shakes her head. ''Girl's got problems.''

''If she becomes an alcoholic, I'll be able to pinpoint the exact moment it started.''

She snickers lightly and turns to face him, fixing the collar of his jacket for him with one hand. ''You goin' somewhere, James Dean?''

''Yeah, I'm gonna run down the street and check on my dad.''

She nods, lips turning up in a small smile. ''Okay,'' she leans in to press a kiss to his cheek. ''Be careful.''

''Lila, it's just - ''

''Just your dad. I know. But still.'' She splays her hand out against his cheek. ''Just be careful for me.'' She gives him a bright smile and hopes it's convincing enough. The fake smile drops off her lips while she's watching him weave his way through the crowd and she lets out a heavy breath. Choking down a moan, she steps back out of the fray and sinks onto the stairs. She loves the annual Halloween party, it's one of her favourite things, but right now all she wants to do is go home and sleep. It's been a long few days. (Yeah, that's the understatement of the century.) With a yawn, she drops her head into her hands and lets her eyes droop shut.

''Why you dirty little liar, you.''

She cracks open one eye to peer up at her brother, standing in front of her with his hands on his hips, smirking down at her smugly. ''What are you talking about?''

Connor drops onto the step next to her, staring at her intently. ''You were lying earlier. About your mysterious nightmare. About the stitches.'' He crooks a finger in her face. ''I can always tell when you're lying.''

She sucks in a nervous breath and takes another gulp of the strong punch. ''I don't know what you're talking about.''

He rolls his eyes. ''Cut the bullshit, Bray. Just tell me already. What's going on?''

She smirks around the edge of her cup. ''You wouldn't believe me if I told you.''

''Try me.''

She bites her lip and lowers the cup, looking at him carefully. Well, why the hell not? If she was going to tell anybody, it should be Connor. Looking around for prying eyes, she leans closer to him to whisper, ''Alex and I went back in time to save Dad.'' And then she smirks at the dumbfounded expression on her brother's face.

After a moment of blinking and stuttering, Connor swings his gaze over to their parents, who are on the other side of the room, whispering to each other. ''Know what?'' Connor raises his eyebrows, letting out a laugh. ''I believe you.''

''Mmmhmm.'' She nods, taking another sip of her drink.

''Okay then.'' He nods with her, matter-of-factly. ''So you went back in time and I spent all day playing video games with Nick.'' He shrugs. ''We are incredibly well balanced siblings.''

She chuckles tiredly. ''Could be worse.''

''Yeah,'' he mumbles under his breath. ''We could be Kardashians.''

**end outtake #3**

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_Treat Number Two: _

_Rabbit Hole: The Soundtrack_

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(Warning: I am about to get deep and redundant with some of these observations, people. Beware. I took this soundtrack perhaps a little too seriously. I couldn't help it! It was so much fun!)

**01. Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up) - Florence + The Machine**

_''The looking glass, so shiny and new. How quickly the glamour fades. I start spinning, slipping out of time; was that the wrong pill to take?'' _So, as you know, the general theme of this story was _Alice in Wonderland._ I don't know if I've ever mentioned this, but something about Bray reminds me of that particular fairytale. She just has an Alice-like quality to her. And this story was exactly like her falling into Wonderland. Bray has a world. She has a life. She knows exactly where she fits into her life in 2026, but when she and Alex are thrown back in time, she's suddenly out of place with nowhere to belong._ ''Here I am, a rabbit hearted girl, frozen in the headlights.''_ She's struggling to keep her identity hidden and save her father and eventually, it all becomes frantic and chaotic and eventually, it all boils down to her making the ultimate sacrifice for her father by taking the knife for him. _''It seems I've made the final sacrifice.''_ Like she mentions, it is all just the plight of a Winchester. Doomed to be self-sacrificing and incredibly family driven. It's almost like a sort of tunnel vision. It's what being a Winchester means. _''This is a gift, it comes with a price.''_ Overall, this song is basically just perfect for the story and that's why I picked it for the theme song.

**02. This Is Halloween (Cover from The Nightmare Before Christmas) - Marilyn Manson**

_''Boys and girls of every age, wouldn't you like to see something strange?''_ Because this is a Halloween story, I thought this song was appropriate. And yes, the original version is great and The Nightmare Before Christmas is one of my favourite movies, but the Marilyn Manson version adds a certain level of badassness that just seems to naturally pair with this story. _''Come with us and you will see, this our town of Halloween.'' _Plus, it's got a creepy feeling to it. I can just imagine it playing while Dean was first discovering the mangled bodies of the missing women in the beginning, or during the Halloween party Ruby crashed in order to play bait. _''In this town we call home, everyone hail to the pumpkin song. In this down, don't we love it now? Everybody's waiting for the next surprise!''_

**03. Stay - Hurts**

I actually just recently discovered this song. It's apparently pretty popular, but I honestly just found it. Since then, I've decided that this song is perfect for the entire Lila Bray 'verse in general. _''So change your mind and say you're mind. Don't leave tonight. Stay.'' _It works for every pairing. Dean/Ruby, Sam/Sarah, Bobby/Jodie (which, yes, is a part of the Lila Bray 'verse; that is probably one of the only canon SPN pairings that I wholeheartedly ship), Bray/Alex, Connor/Whatever his future girlfriend's name is. And it even works for the family/friendship pairings that run rampant in the 'verse like Dean and Sam and their brotherly bond to end all brotherly bonds, Ruby/Castiel (don't know if I've ever mentioned that, but they're pretty close), Bray and Connor, even Bray and her best friend Maisie. When it comes down to it, yes, this song is a love song. But I think that if SPN has taught us anything, it's that there is nothing deeper than the love we hold for our families. _''Stay with me, stay with me. Stay with me, stay with me.''_

**04. Banquet - Bloc Party**

_''A heart of stone, a smoking gun. I can give you live, I can take it away.'' _Lila Bray Winchester is many things. One of her more pronounced qualities is how freaking badass she gets, a trait she gets from both her mother and her father. She's got double doses of kick ass in her. She's no damsel. But she is also an eighteen year old girl. As an eighteen year old girl, I can tell you that sometimes it fucking sucks, pardon my french. She may be the child of Dean and Ruby Winchester and part of her life may be ruled by the name Winchester - trying to live up to the legacy her father and uncle left behind must suck ass for her - but she is very much her own person. She's just a regular girl muddling her way through life, growing up, making mistakes, dealing with her anxiety disorder, and trying to figure out who she is. She's basically just trying to carve out her own path for herself. _''Turning away from the light. Becoming adult.'' _I think that this little back in time journey was important for her in her quest for discovering herself. _''Turning into myself. I wanted to bite not destroy.''_ Also, I heard this song on the trailer for Katie Cassidy's 2007 movie 'You Are Here' and I fell in love with it. I think it's perfect for the next generation.

**05. Remember Everything - Five Finger Death Punch**

_''Oh, dear brother, just don't hate me.'' _This would be a Dean song. The timeline for _Rabbit Hole _is October of 2010. It hasn't even been six months since Sam's death and as we all know, Dean doesn't deal well without his brother. He's hiding a lot of pain in this story. From Ruby, from himself. And because he's a father in this 'verse, he's really trying not to go down the boozy road that he's currently barreling down full speed ahead in canon. He probably has a lot of healthy ways to get out his feelings at his disposal, but he's Dean, of course he's going to pretend he's fine and pretend he's okay until he becomes incredibly evident that he is not. _''If I could hold back the rain, would you numb the pain? 'Cause I remember everything.''_

**06. Pumped Up Kicks - Foster the People**

This song is addictive. And a little strange. The melody is upbeat and cheerful, but the lyrics are darker than midnight. _''But he's coming for you; yeah he's coming for you.'' _As dark as they are, they somehow fit with the main villain of this story, the sick and twisted rakshasa. _''All the other kids with the pumped up kicks, you better run, better run...''_

**07. Damned If She Do - The Kills**

_''She come alive when she's dying. She come alive when she's on her last legs.'' _This song fits Bray so perfectly, which, in retrospect, is a little disturbing. It's not the happiest song in the world and the lyrics certainly aren't no ''we live in a beautiful world'' but they work so well for this story and Bray's rampant self-sacrificial tendencies. _''She damned if she will. She damned if she won't. Some of them left in one piece and some she damn near broke.''_ What is it about Winchesters and their penchant for sacrificing themselves?

**08. Runaway - Yeah Yeah Yeahs**

_''All along, not so strong without these open arms. Hold on tight.'' _I think this is probably the song I imagine playing in the hospital when her dad hugged her and she just totally broke down. It's got that eerie sort of slow and haunting melody and the lyrics are both lost and comfort at the same time. There's this one line - _''Like you to stay, want you to be my prize'' _- reminds me of why Bray did what she did in this story. It wasn't just purely for her dad, but her entire family.

**09. If You Want Blood (You've Got It) - AC/DC**

_''If you want blood, you've got it. If you want blood, you've got it. Blood on the streets, blood on the rocks, blood in the gutter; every last drop.'' _This strong strikes me as sort of an...action song? I don't know if that's the right way to describe it, but I think it works well for action scenes. And plus, come on, you can't have a playlist for a Supernatural story and not have a little bit of classic rock thrown in there.

**10. I Know I'm a Wolf - Young Heretics**

_''And I've captured you once, but I wasn't quite right so I'm telling you that you'll be safe with me.'' _I'm going to be honest with you. This song is creepy as fuck to me. And what better song to be the rakshasa's theme song than this song? I think it works really well for him because that was his whole game. He went to the bar, made the girls think he was harmless, drugged them, and then took them back to his lair to...eat them. _''So rabbit, please stop looking the other way. It's cold out there so why not stay here...under my tail...'' _He was a true predator, and probably one of the creepiest villains I've ever written. I'm really glad I decided against writing out some of his darker scenes. That would have ruined the family vibe that I tried to convey with this story. _''I could keep you warm as long as you can just try to be brave.''_

**11. Infinity (Flufftronix Remix) - The XX**

_''I can't give it up.'' _Well, this song seems to be making its rounds everywhere, doesn't it? And for good reason! It's a great remix and the beat really fits this story, in my humble opinion.

**12. Invincible - Adelitas Way**

_''I'll break you a hundred different ways and I'll make you remember my face. Thought that I would let you leave, it's hard to stop what you can't see.'' _The Winchesters are badass. It's just a fact. Dean and Sam have spent over six years being the biggest badasses on television and I have tried to make it clear that the trait of badassness has totally passed onto their children. _''I'm rising up. I've had enough.'' _The Winchester family may not be technically invincible, but they are most definitely untouchable. Really, now. Monsters should just plain steer clear of them. _''I'm feeling invincible tonight; I'm alive, take a look into my eyes.''_

**13. When You Find Me - Joshua Radin featuring Maria Taylor**

_''My only weakness is knowing your secrets and holding them close, and holding them tight.'' _It's a Dean and Bray song, plain and simple. It's so sweet and fluffy. It's a duet and the two singers (Joshua Radin and Maria Taylor) have voices that mesh together perfectly. I'm sure this song was intended to be a love song, but when I first heard it my immediate thought was ''this is such a Dean and Bray song.'' I suppose I should be more worried that fictional characters have a major hold on me, like a spell, but I'm not. _''I know the way to silently make you smile with my eyes, when you're trying to fight.'' _This song has a beautiful delicacy to it that fits perfectly with the relationship that exists between Dean and Bray. _''Can you see that when I find you, I'll find me.''_

**14. Start a Fire - Ryan Star**

This is Bray and Alex's song all the way. Every lyric works for the pairing, the beat is sweet and innocent and hot and sultry all at the same time. It's just right. It's like somebody took their characters and their relationship and wrote a song for them. _''I remember when you said your father's asleep. I remember swimming as our clothes drifted off to sea. So wake up, wake up dreaming and lie here with me. So wake up, wake up dreaming. And lie here with me.'' _Seriously. I don't even know what else to say about this song other than it's their song and here are the awesome lyrics for this great song. _''Here we go, just lose control and let your body give in to the beat of your heart as my hand touches your skin. Is this love or just sexual desire? We're gonna start a fire.'' _See what I mean? Oh, and I do have to give some props to **BellaMiaLuna **who actually first introduced me to this song awhile back, so thanks for that! This soundtrack wouldn't have been complete without it! _''I remember dancing as the stars were falling. I remember dancing on the hotel's unmade bed.''_

**15. Thank You - Led Zeppelin**

_''If the sun refused to shine, I would still be loving you.'' _Frankly, this soundtrack wouldn't feel right if it didn't have a little Zeppelin in it. Dean and Ruby may have been through tough times and all, and things could get even worse for them, but...I don't think they realize how lucky they are in the Lila Bray 'verse. As crushing as their lives may seem to them sometimes, it could be worse. _''When mountains crumble to the sea, there will still be you and me.''_ Plus, I imagine Dean and Ruby probably danced to this song during their wedding, which happens sometime in the future. (After they danced to _their_ song, that is. ...Their song being number 19 on this soundtrack.)

**16. All the Small Things - Blink 182**

_''Say it ain't so, I will not go, turn the lights off, carry me home.''_ This song is crazy and kooky and happy and all of the things that the future is for the Winchester family, what with Sam's many kids and his wacky wife and Dean and Ruby and their equally as insane life. Their normally insane life. The one they worked their asses off for. Someday, I should write a fic about their everyday life in the future. It would be like writing a sitcom. ...And if it were a sitcom, this would be the theme song. _''Keep your head still, I'll be your thrill, the night will go on, my little windmill.''_

**17. You and Me - Ryan Star**

_''Saw you standing across the room. I find my way to your heart. Couldn't speak, I couldn't move. I find my way to your heart. Till it's you and me, I've seen your eyes before. And it's you and me. I don't want anything more.''_ Just another multi-couple/friendship song that works for romantic pairings and family friendships. Although this one is probably more romantic than family. It especially works for Bray and Alex, who have climbed their way to OTP status in my brain. It wasn't a long climb, but they've claimed their spot in my heart, that's for sure. _''Keep your window opened up. I find my way to your heart. Don't have money, I don't have much but I find a way to your heart.''_

**18. Monster Mash - Bobby ''Boris'' Pickett**

_''He did the mash, he did the monster mash. The monster mash, it was a graveyard smash.''_ I would like to point out that it is virtually impossible to write a Halloween fic and not include this song on the soundtrack. This song _is_ Halloween to me. _''He did the mash, it caught on in a flash. He did the mash, he did the monster mash.''_

**19. Dream a Little Dream of Me - The Mamas and the Papas**

And here it is. The song that made the Lila Bray 'verse what it is today. The song that started it all. The song that was playing on the radio, barely audible over the static of the old station, while Lila Bray was conceived. _''Stars shining bright above you, night breezes seem to whisper ''I love you'', birds singin' in the sycamore tree; dream a little dream of me.'' _Yeah, I'm just going to put practically the whole song in here. This song _is_ the Lila Bray 'verse, we need all the lyrics. _''Say nighty-night and kiss me, just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me, while I'm alone and blue as can be, dream a little dream of me. Stars fading, but I linger on, dear, still craving your kiss. I'm longing to linger till dawn, dear, just saying this: Sweet dreams till sun beams find you, sweet dreams that leave our worries behind you. But in your dreams whatever they be, dream a little dream of me...''_

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><p><strong>AN: Annnd...DONE! Hope you all liked the extras! Be on the lookout for a new chapter of <strong>_**i carry your heart **_**to be posted on the 14th.**


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